


you gave me a forever within our numbered days

by RegalPotato



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-03-25 08:06:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13829988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RegalPotato/pseuds/RegalPotato
Summary: “Octavian said you killed a man.”“Yes, I did.”“A good man.”“A very good man. The best man I’ve ever known.”River kills the Doctor, really kills him, so why does he keep popping back into her life? Series rewrite where the Doctor dies but River falls in love with him anyway.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes the title is based off a 'The Fault in Our Stars' quote. I've never read/seen TFIOS but the quote fits.
> 
> So I really hate how River was forced into Stormcage for killing the Doctor when she actually had no choice (the spacesuit did all the work...) and I like the idea of their relationship being a closed circle where they both die at the end (but I have a few tricks up my sleeve in regards to that - don't worry). So here we go.
> 
> Shortish chapter, but you'll all be pleased to know the chapters just keep getting longer the more I write.

It’s a Saturday morning, relatively early for most, but they’re always awake by this hour so Mels knows it’s no big deal. She lets herself into their house with the key they so eagerly gave her months ago - not that she ever needs a key to get into somewhere - and heads straight to the kitchen to make herself breakfast. Her place, because she’s never thought of it as  _ home _ and never will, is severely lacking in anything particularly edible, and she knows Amy won’t mind a few missing slices of bread. 

 

She’s lounging on the sofa, half way through her second piece of toast, when she hears a loud crackling sound - the sort of sound she imagines lightning would make if she didn’t know thunder existed. It’s not a comforting noise, and she’s out of her chair in an instant. Amy’s voice strains through the house from the back garden. She’s begging someone to stay.

 

The crackling sound appears again, sending unease down Mels’ spine, and she picks up her pace through the kitchen, all but bursting out of the backdoor. The sight that greets her sends a spike of anger through her chest; Amy collapsed on the grass, sobbing, with Rory curled around her. 

 

Mels swallows heavily.

 

“Amy?”

 

The couple jump in surprise at her voice and suddenly Amy is wrapped around Mels, her arms holding tight. The anger inside her increases as Amy continues to sob, crying about things that don’t make sense and yet make everything clear at the same time. 

 

_ Demon’s Run. _

 

The name echoes in her head. 

 

“I named her after you, Mels. Melody. Melody Pond. A superhero.” 

 

Her ears are ringing. 

 

She’s just been born.

 

She’s just been lost. 

 

The anger fades into a soft melancholy and she hugs Amy all the tighter for it. 

 

Amy and Rory explain everything to her in great detail. They’ve never hidden anything, especially nothing Doctor related, from her before but she almost wishes they would hide this. Hearing everything that happened at Demon’s Run, hearing how raw both her parents are about her loss when she’s sat right next to them, is an emotional rollercoaster Mels really doesn’t want to be on. 

 

There’s parts of the story that don’t entirely make sense; she doesn’t know how they got back to Earth if the Doctor isn’t with them - she knows the sound his time machine makes, and it’s not that ear wrenching crackle - and Mels almost feels like they  _ are  _ hiding something from her. But it’s not really important, so she shakes the feeling away and focuses on trying her best to fix what the Doctor has broken. 

 

\--

 

It’s been a month since her parents came back scarred from Demon’s Run. They’ve barely mentioned the Doctor since then, trying to fit back into a sense of normality. But Mels can tell they’re still hurting, still waiting, hoping that their precious Doctor will save their baby and bring her back to them. She wishes, not for the first time, that she could tell them they always had her, that she’s right here, they love her already - though she knows it’s not the same. Amy Pond and Rory Williams might treat her like their daughter, the scolding, the caring, the love, but she knows that the love doesn’t run quite as deep as she wants it to. 

 

Mels is sitting on the sofa, flipping a pen around in her hand - wishing it was one of her throwing knives instead - when Amy sits down heavily next to her and sighs. Mels remains silent, knowing her mother will speak when she’s ready. It doesn’t take long.

 

“We need to find him. It’s been a month for us, but it could have been years for him. Time machine, you know?”

 

Mels nods, though she doesn’t understand what that has to do with her, considering she’s never met the Doctor. Sometimes she wonders what will happen the day she kills him - will Amy and Rory disown her, even if she tells them she’s theirs, that it’s the Demon’s fault she was ripped away from them. Sometimes she wonders, but more often than not, she tries not to dwell on the possible outcomes. 

 

“Rory and I have a plan. We want you to help us find the Doctor. And when we do, you’re coming with us.”

 

That surprises her. Mels swallows down the ‘oh’ that wants to escape, and forces her trademark grin onto her face. 

 

“Gonna help you find your daughter, yeah?” she says, and the words taste like ash on her tongue. 

 

“Going to help us find your god daughter,” Amy replies.

 

The twisting nether of emotions in Mels’ chest twist tighter. Her smile shakes but she keeps it in place, laying a gentle hand on Amy’s knee. The other woman grins and yanks her into a hug. Face hidden in a curtain of ginger hair, Mels lets the smile drop, and squeezes her eyes shut. 

 

It’s all going to go to shit soon, she can feel it surrounding them, the twisting lines of time needling her. Soon, she’ll meet the Doctor. And soon, she’ll put a bullet in him. 

 

\--

 

It’s been another month since her parents started trying to lure the Doctor back to Leadworth. None of their ridiculous plans have worked, and Mels is getting  _ bored _ . 

 

The week she spends in lockup for setting Mr Abernathy’s hedge on fire does nothing to quell the slow progression of time. 

 

She’s lying on her back on her parents’ sofa, head dangling off the edge, staring at Amy and Rory who are hunched over a map on the dining room table. 

 

“What if we...wait I’ve got it!” Amy shouts. 

 

Mels flips over onto her front, and rests her head on her hand. 

 

“Crop circles.”

 

Her eyes roll upwards of their own accord. If Amy is going to keep shooting down Mels’ perfectly clever ideas -  _ no Mels we can’t set all the fields on fire in the shape of the TARDIS, no Mels we can’t break into the power station and make the country’s lights spell out Raggedy Man, no Mels we can’t dress the penguins from London Zoo up in bowties  _ \- she isn’t going to support her mother’s boring ones. 

 

“Crop circles?” Rory presses, oblivious to Mels’ inner monologue. 

 

“We write out his name in the wheat field just south of here. It’ll get in the news, and you  _ know _ he’ll see it. The TARDIS monitors everything from our time.”

 

Mels perks up at that. Her mother has a point. She can feel time pulsing around them, pushing them forwards, and she knows this is it. This is when she meets him.

 

“Well, what are we waiting for then? No time like the present. I’ll meet you guys there, just gotta pop home,” she winces at the word, “and grab some stuff first.”

 

Her parents nod at her, seemingly pleased that she’s finally taking an interest in their plans to find the Doctor. She only hopes they’re still pleased to see her once his blood is on her hands. 

 

\--

 

They’re already halfway through the crop vandalism by the time Mels reaches them. She drops her backpack - full of some clothes, a couple of knives, and her favourite gun - by her feet and pats her pockets, double checking her lipsticks are in place; just in case. 

 

Then she crosses her legs and falls into a sitting position, waiting for her parents to finish. 

 

It’s not long until their car comes screeching to a stop a few feet away from her. Amy and Rory hop out and look around expectantly. For some reason, Mels just  _ knows _ that this plan of theirs is the one that finally works in dragging the Doctor back to them. So she pats the flattened wheat beside her and invites her parents to sit and wait. 

 

Rory - the last centurion - has no trouble being patient. And even Mels manages not to fidget in the dirt, despite the buzz of excitement running through her. Amy, however, has been pacing for the last two hours.

 

“He has a  _ time  _ machine,” she’s saying as if she’s the only one there with that particular bit of knowledge. “How can he be late with a time machine?”

 

Surprisingly, it’s on that question that the wind picks up around them, a slow wheezing sound permeating the air. Rory is on his feet in a second. Mels is slightly slower, her hearts hammering in her chest as she picks up her backpack, fingers clutching the strap with a white knuckled grip. 

 

The police phone box phases into view. 

 

It’s beautiful.

 

The three of them stand together, barely breathing, and watch as the door creaks open. Her pulses are pounding in her ears, her mouth dry, as a tall man with a floppy fringe emerges from the TARDIS. She’s disgusted that her first thought is how attractive he is.

 

“Seriously,” he says as he exits, arm flying up to show them the copy of the Leadworth Chronicle he holds in his hand. 

 

Mels realises with a start that it’s a copy that hasn’t been printed yet, and the crop circle vandalism, courtesy of her parents, is splashed across the newspaper’s front page. 

 

“You never answer your phone,” Rory deadpans.

 

Amy rushes forwards, “you’ve had months, Doctor. Have you found her? Have you found Melody?”

 

_ I’m right here, _ Mels wants to scream at her mother.  _ You’ve always had me. _

 

The Doctor stalks forwards. His presence is unnerving her. He stands tall, confident, dangerous, and the dark part of her is thrashing around inside begging to be unleashed. There’s anger bubbling beneath the surface as she stares at him, but she forces it back, soothing it, promising the anger that it will be set free soon. For now, she wants to see the side of the Demon that Amy knows and loves, the one that eats fish fingers and custard, and saves space whales. Even though, thanks to the same man, Amy’s childhood had been wrought with grief, numerous psychiatrists and ridicule from her peers, almost driving the young girl mad. 

 

Mels wants to see his lie, expose it, and then kill it. Kill  _ him. _

 

“Permission?” the Doctor says, handing the newspaper over to Rory. Her father rolls his eyes and mutters, “granted.”

 

White hot anger lances through Mels’ skull when the Doctor envelopes Amy in a tight embrace. Her jaw clenches, nails digging into her hand as she grips her bag tighter. How dare he touch her mother after everything he’s put them through. 

 

Her fingers long to reach for her gun, but instead, she bites her tongue and swallows down the bile rising in her throat. 

 

He’s whispering in her mother’s ear, voice too low for Mels to pick up, even with her exceptional hearing. After a moment, Amy pulls back. “But you haven’t yet.”

 

There’s an awkward silence and before she notices him move, the Doctor - the Demon, the Oncoming Storm, the Mighty Warrior - is stood in front of her. He’s looking at her curiously, and Mels averts her gaze, somehow worried that he can figure everything out just from looking in her eyes. 

 

“And who,” he asks, his voice thick with the excitement of a new mystery to solve, “are you?”

 

“I’m Mels,” she says, and there’s a smile already appearing on her face as she finds her confidence again. Charming, charismatic, deadly. “Mels Zucker. I’m their best mate.”

 

_ I’m their daughter.  _

 

_ And I’m going to kill you. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter follows the plot from The God Complex. Any recognisable dialogue is from there.

“I’ve got some leads to follow, thought you might as well come with me,” the Doctor says as they all rush into the TARDIS, but as soon as she steps over the threshold, Mels stops paying attention. 

 

She has known about the TARDIS her entire life, from the Order, from her mother, but seeing it with her own eyes - the bigger on the inside time machine - it’s enough to take her breath away. Her hand reaches out to stroke along the wall, and a deep hum fills her mind, vibrating through her arm and out through her fingertips. It’s comforting, loving, it feels like time itself is embracing her. 

 

Mels rubs at her temples, trying and failing to make the feeling go away, and makes her way up to the console to stand beside her parents. The Doctor is still rambling and she realises, with a flood of embarrassment for getting caught up in the wonder of his time machine, that she hasn’t heard a single word.

 

“There have been rumours here and there, nothing solid, nothing that gives us a definite destination. But where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”

 

She’s always been good at reading people, partially because the Order made her learn all about body language in between the constant gun drills or hand to hand combat, but also because Mels has naturally always understood how people work. 

 

The Doctor isn’t human, his body doesn’t give off the same tells and hints a human body does, but as Mels listens to him prattle on, watching him dart around the TARDIS controls, she can’t help but feel he’s lying through his back teeth. She  _ knows _ he doesn’t save Melody Pond, and looking at the tight tension in his jaw, she wonders if he knows as well. 

 

“How many times have you seen her, since Demon’s Run?” Amy asks and the Doctor stops dead, pitching forwards slightly with the force of his momentum.

 

He turns slowly to look at her, eyes hooded, mouth in a firm line. 

 

“She can’t help us with this, Amy. You know that.” 

 

“But…”

 

“Anyway,” he spins on his heels and turns back to the TARDIS controls and Mels bristles at his casual dismissal of her mother. “We’ve got places to be. No time to pick River up.”

 

_ River _ .

 

It’s a stupid name.

 

With a flourish of the Doctor’s wrist, and a chime from the cloister bell, the TARDIS lands at their destination. The Doctor smiles at Amy, and bounces past her to throw open the doors and step outside. Amy and Rory look at each other for a moment, their silent communication something that Mels has always envied, and then they’re rushing out the TARDIS as well. Mels tightens her fingers around the strap of her backpack, a sense of dread building inside her, and follows after her parents and the man she’s been raised to kill. 

 

She steps outside to find herself stood on a staircase, a square staircase that reaches up for what seems like forever. 

 

“What are we doing here?” Amy asks the Doctor. “Where are we?”

 

“I dunno,” he says slowly. He spins in a circle, waving what Mels assumes is his sonic screwdriver through the air. “Something must have knocked us off course.”

 

“Can’t you fly your ship right?” Mels finds herself asking before she can stop herself.

 

He spins to face her then, sonic still hovering menacingly beside his head. 

 

“Who are you, Mels?” he says, continuing on before she has a chance to reply. “You’re their best friend, I get that. But why weren’t you at their wedding? Why haven’t I seen you before now?”

 

“I don’t do weddings,” she bites out, not willing to tell him she’d gone on a bender and gotten herself arrested the day of the event itself. Something about watching her parents get married before she was even conceived had made her want to be anywhere but that church. Mels eyes narrow into a glare. “You’re the one who drops in and out of their lives, shouldn’t I be questioning you?”

 

He stares her down and Amy and Rory hover nervously behind him, no doubt wondering whether to step in between the two of them. His eyes lock onto hers, and Mels wants to know what exactly it is he’s searching for inside her. She suddenly feels more vulnerable than she ever has before, pinned beneath his gaze with nowhere to run. There’s something in his eyes that calls to her, a strange twisting sensation in the air around them, and she finds herself questioning just how connected his timestream is with hers. 

 

Her heartbeats quicken at the thought. 

 

Then, as if he hasn’t just been staring into her soul, he twists away from her again. She lets out the breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding, but doesn’t take her eyes from his lanky form.

 

“Who would make a mockup of an Earth hotel?” the Doctor says to no one in particular. 

 

He sniffs a plant and grabs an apple from a nearby fruit bowl, taking a bite. He makes a face as he swallows and gently puts the half eaten apple back on top of the pile of fruit. Amy and Rory, no doubt used to his eccentricities, ignore the Doctor and take their own look around the stairwell. 

 

“Have you seen these?” Rory says. “Look at the labels underneath.”

 

Trying to push back the weird mood the Doctor has somehow put her in, Mels moves to look at whatever it is that has caught Rory’s attention. Her eyes widen slightly in surprise when she sees dozens upon dozens of photo frames lining the walls. 

 

Between them, her parents read out the labels, one by one. It takes her a moment to understand, but then a chill settles in her chest.  _ Fears. They’re their fears.  _ Mels glances over at the Doctor and sees an expression on his face that is sure to match her own. 

 

“What does it mean?” Amy asks and the Doctor’s face switches so suddenly that Mels has to wonder if she’d seen anything in the first place. 

 

“Let’s find out.”

 

He grins and smashes his hand down on the reception desk bell.

 

\--

 

The only reason Mels hasn’t killed the Doctor yet is because she doesn’t want to die here. The TARDIS is gone, there’s a monster hunting them, and the rooms are full of nightmares. Mels is half excited for the adventure and half annoyed at being stuck here with a man she wants - needs - to kill. 

 

She can feel the call of her room - the room with her worst fear inside - but as much as she wants to open the door, to see her fears manifested in reality, she’s smarter than that. So she pushes down the desire, and focuses her emotions into directing her anger towards the Doctor. Anger for bringing them here, anger for not saving them, all the anger she’s been raised on. 

 

He soon comes up with some inane idea to capture the beast stalking them, but his plan doesn’t sit right in her stomach. Why capture something trying to eat them, instead of taking the fight to the monster, killing it before it kills them. Mels briefly wonders if the Doctor has something worse planned before she’s brought out of her musings by everything going wrong. 

 

The capture attempt fails, ending with Rory in a heap on the floor - and it’s a good thing he’s just dazed, because the gun in her backpack is burning hotter with every minute that passes - and the Doctor sprinting through the corridors. She looks up from where she’s crouched next to her father just in time to see Amy opening a door.

 

“No!” Mels screams.

 

But Amy doesn’t hear her, and steps straight into her own personal nightmare.

 

Mels shoots up like a rocket, grabbing Amy around the waist and pulling her to the ground. The door slams shut beside them. 

 

“What did you see?” she shouts, sitting up and grabbing Amy’s shoulders tightly.

 

“Nothing. I...nothing. I don’t know. It was weird.”

 

Amy’s looking off into the distance as Mels curls herself around her mother, fear closing around both her heats. If the creature wants to take Amy, it’s going to have to go through Mels first.

 

\--

 

“Why?” she finds herself asking him during a lull in the excitement. 

 

The Doctor stops, jerking backwards on his heels like someone has grabbed the back of his collar, and twists to face her. 

 

“Excellent question,” he says, grinning. “Excellent question.”

 

He pauses, looking at her with the intensity she’s coming to expect.

 

“Why what?”

 

Mels snorts a laugh through her nose before she can stop herself. She coughs quickly, trying to hide it, but the corner of the Doctor’s mouth twitches. Ignoring the way her constant internal anger towards him seems to stutter at that, she presses on. 

 

“Why is it up to you to save us?  You got a bit of a god complex or something?.”

 

The Doctor turns his head away from her to look down the stairs at her parents. Amy is leaning against the wall, talking in hushed whispers to Rory. 

 

“I brought them, and you, here,” he says without looking at her, eyes still glued to Amy. “They’ll say it was their choice, but offer a child a suitcase full of sweets and they’ll take it. Offer someone all of time and space and they’ll take that too.”

 

His eyes find hers. 

 

“Which is why you shouldn’t.” 

 

“You ruined their lives.” She means to say it loudly, angrily, but it comes out as a whisper. 

 

She expects him to deny it, to wax something poetic about space travel or how he’s never forced anyone into his life. She doesn’t expect his eyes to turn sad, she doesn’t expect the flash of grief that washes over his face, she doesn’t expect him to agree.

 

“I know.”

 

“They lost their baby,” she continues, her anger towards him fighting with her desire to find out who he really is. 

 

“Because of me,” he finishes the thought for her, eyes drifting back down to Amy once more. 

 

“And…” She’s going to push too far, but now she’s started, she realises she can’t stop. “...they’re not going to get her back. Are they? They’re not going to get to raise her like they want to.”

 

He doesn’t respond, but the way his jaw tightens tells her he’s heard her. He sighs, shoulders dropping, and his body shifts, eyes sliding up to find hers again. He searches her face, staring at her like she’s someone he’s forgotten, and it causes her breath to get stuck in her throat. She can feel the timelines needling her again, wrapping around them tightly,  _ squeezing.  _ She almost chokes. 

 

“Who are you, Mels?”

 

“I told you.”

 

“Mels. Mels.” He says her name slowly, letting it roll over his tongue. A creeping sliver of ice begins to make its way up her spine as he continues to stare at her. “Short for?” he finally asks. 

 

She swallows. 

 

“Melody.”

 

“They named their daughter after you?” he guesses and it’s not what she expects him to say. Relief floods through her, but somewhere, in the back of her mind, she can feel a sense of disappointment. 

 

“So, all of time and space, yeah?” she forces out.

 

The Doctor smirks knowingly at the change of topic. 

 

“Oh yeah.” He taps his finger on her nose and Mels is too shocked to recoil at the action. “And when we get out of this, I’ll show you too.”

 

\--

 

She watches, waiting, as more and more people die. More and more people the Doctor fails to save. And then suddenly it’s faith and not fear driving the monster towards them. And Mels is glad she never looked in her room - because faith is nothing but broken promises. 

 

“Your faith brought us here,” the Doctor says to Amy, his voice low, apologetic. “It needs to convert faith into a form it can...consume. That’s why at the end of the note it said…”

 

“Praise him,” Amy says and Mels’ blood runs cold. 

 

“Yes, exactly.” The Doctor continues on with his theories and explanations, but Mels is focussed on Amy now, and she can sense Rory beside her doing the same. 

 

It takes a moment - and she has to wonder how brilliant the Doctor really is if it takes him longer to notice than two humans - but then he’s at Amy’s side, a quiet “oh no” slipping from his lips. 

 

Heavy footsteps. 

 

Running. 

 

The maze of hallways leading them in an endless loop as they drag Amy away from the creature that wants to kill her. 

 

Then a room.  _ Amy’s  _ room. Little Amelia Pond sat on a suitcase waiting for a Doctor who never came back. 

 

Mels can feel her anger returning. 

 

“I can’t save you from this.” He crouches beside her mother. “There’s nothing I can do to stop this. I stole your childhood and led you by your hand to your death.”

 

Mels stares at him, mouth agape, watching in disbelief as he whispers coldly to Amy. She feels the burning need for her gun, for its comfort in her hand, the pounding of the creature at the door growing louder by the second. 

 

Maybe she can fulfil her purpose before she dies, killing the Doctor instead of letting the beast do it for her. But then she sees his eyes as he watches Amy carefully. Not cold like his voice, but full of pain, guilt, regret. 

 

And she realises what he’s doing. He’s trying to  _ save  _ Amy. By trying to ruin her faith in him. 

 

The creature bursts through the door and Mels bursts into her own rescue mission. 

 

“He’s right,” she starts saying, and the words tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them. “He won’t save you. Just like he broke his promise to you both, and never saved me.”

 

Almost everyone’s eyes are on her now, even the creepy fake Amelia is watching her, but Amy is still latched onto the Doctor. 

 

“I have  _ died _ , cold and alone. I have been tortured and betrayed and  _ unloved _ because he couldn’t, or  _ wouldn’t, _ save me. You won’t get your daughter back, Amy. Because she’s stood right here.”

 

Amy finally looks at her, eyes big and bright and full of unshed tears. The Doctor’s gaze burns into Mels, and there’s something that looks a lot like  _ recognition _ shining in his eyes.

 

“You got to raise me after all,” she continues, and her voice is trembling, her emotions overwhelming her. “Though I know it’s not the same.”

 

“Melody?” her mother breathes. 

 

“Named me after me,” Mels laughs, trying her hardest to focus on her mother and not let her eyes drift to the man beside her. “And he  _ knows _ he was never going to find me. He’s been lying to you, Amy. He doesn’t  _ care. _ ”

 

The Doctor flinches at her words. Good. He doesn’t deserve sympathy right now, or ever. Tears are flowing freely down Amy’s face, and out of the corner of her eyes she can see Rory, hand splayed across his mouth as he stares at her with his own watery eyes, full of pain.

 

The creature staggers in the doorway and the Doctor stands, leaving Amy alone once again, and following it into the hallway as it starts to collapse. With an apologetic wince, Mels leaves Rory to fall beside a sobbing Amy, and rushes after the Doctor, hand digging deep into her backpack as she moves.  

 

“We severed the food supply,” he’s telling the beast, watching it twist in pain on the floor. “Sacrificing her faith in me gave you the space to die.” 

 

The beast groans, and everything around them begins to fade away. The floor recedes, taking the walls and ceiling with it, until they’re all stood together in a black tiled room, a green console glowing just to Mels’ left. 

 

“Mels, why do you have a gun?” Rory asks, the first to notice her, arm outstretched, gun pointed straight at the Doctor. 

 

“I...I just do alright?” she splutters. “Traveling in space with a mad man, after all the stories you told me? Made sense to bring one!”

 

The mad man in question is watching her, a lazy smile on his mouth, no fear or surprise on his face. In fact, he almost looks like he’s been expecting this, expecting her to shove a gun at him. 

 

“What...what is that thing?” she asks instead, trying to think, but all she can hear is the scream of her anger telling her to kill him. 

 

His sonic buzzes and the console beside her lights up. 

 

“A distant cousin of the Nimon. They descend on planets and set themselves up as gods to be worshipped. Which is fine until the inhabitants get all secular and advanced enough to build bonkers prisons.”

 

“Where...are the guards? Prisons have guards.” 

 

Her fingers are too tight on the gun, skin stretched taut over her knuckles. 

 

“No need for any. It’s all automated.” His sonic buzzes again. “Apparently it developed a glitch in the programme. The fears from the people before us weren’t tidied away.”

 

Rory is staring at her, horrified, as she continues to hold the Doctor at gunpoint. He’s stood beside Amy, who’s still curled up on herself on the floor, streaks of mascara running down her cheeks. 

 

Mels’ arm stays up. 

 

The creature, still writhing in pain between her and the Doctor, growls loudly.

 

“What’s it saying?” Rory manages to ask. 

 

The Doctor starts to speak, but Mels interrupts him.

 

“An ancient creature, drenched in the blood of the innocent,” she says, somehow knowing the words to the alien language her parents can’t understand. “Drifting in space, through an endless shifting maze. For such a creature, death would be a gift.”

 

She smiles knowingly at the Doctor, but he’s no longer watching her, he’s staring down sadly at the creature instead. 

 

“Then accept it,” he whispers, leaning down to grasp the creature’s hands in his. “And sleep well.”

 

Mels almost growls at his hubris. 

 

The Doctor stands, and moves to head past her towards the TARDIS - completely ignoring the gun pointed angrily at him -  when the creature gurgles its final breath. The Doctor stops, and she can see the movement of his adam’s apple when he swallows. 

 

“I wasn’t talking about myself,” he translates for the others in the room. 

 

“No,” Mels agrees. “It was talking about the Oncoming Storm. The Demon of Demon’s Run. The Mighty Warrior.”

 

He stares at her, something foreign in his gaze as she steps towards him, gun inches away from his chest. 

 

“It was talking about you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I was pretty happy with this chapter, but when I read it again before posting it, I sort of don't like it anymore...(but maybe that's because I've read it 20 times.)
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed it, thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He only lets go of her as the golden glow of regeneration energy begins to line her skin. At first, it tingles, similar to the familiar needling pull of time around her, but too soon it begins to burn. She feels herself dying a thousand times, her body twisting and turning and coming apart at the seams, regeneration tearing her DNA to shreds and rebuilding it anew. 
> 
> The sound of war drains away until all she can hear is pain. 
> 
> Stars are born and burn out behind her eyelids, she can feel the entire universe stretching through her bones. 
> 
> She screams as she dies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter just wouldn't stop, so enjoy 4k of pain.

“Melody! What are you doing?!”

 

Her gaze flicks to her mother, her hearts clenching in her chest at the sight. Amy is standing, holding onto Rory, her face a mess with her ruined makeup, and Mels realises a moment too late that she shouldn’t have taken her eyes off the Doctor. Before she can move, he’s got her wrist gripped tightly in his hand - surprisingly gentle for someone who’s having his life threatened - and releases the magazine from her gun. It clatters to the floor, each bounce against the black tile feeling like a countdown towards her own death. 

 

But when death doesn’t come, she opens the eyes she’d squeezed shut to find him watching her carefully. His thumb slides over her skin, brushing gently over the double pulse point in her wrist, and her breath catches in her throat.

 

“Melody Pond,” he says quietly, and she almost chokes at the  _ affection _ in his voice. “My bespoke psychopath.”

 

“I’m no one’s,” she growls. “Least of all  _ yours. _ ”

 

He smiles, a knowing look on his face, and it makes the anger inside her  _ burn _ . She twists in his grip, and suddenly he’s looking up at her from the floor, surprise finally on his face. 

 

“Melody, stop!” Her mother’s voice is commanding and Mels finds herself letting go of the Doctor instantly. “Don’t do this. Please. Let’s just get back on the TARDIS and go home.”

 

Amy lets go of Rory and moves to the Doctor’s side, grabbing his arm and helping him to scramble ungracefully to his feet. Mels bites her tongue, watching Amy’s fingers grip tightly into the Doctor’s tweed jacket.

 

“Please. Just take us home.”

 

The defeated despair on Amy’s face has Mels loosening her grip on the pistol - useless without the magazine anyway - the fight draining from her and seeping out of her body almost as quickly as it came. The gun drops to the floor with an uncomfortably loud clatter, bouncing on the black tiles and skidding to a stop in front of the Doctor. He ignores it, though Mels can tell that’s not the only thing he’s trying to avoid as she watches him duck his head to miss Amy’s searching eyes.

 

Mels decides she’ll kill the Doctor another day - and of that she’s certain - but for now her mother needs her, and - Mels shudders at the thought even though it’s the truth - Amy needs her Raggedy Man as well. 

 

They all file into the TARDIS, the comforting aura of time once again blanketing itself around Mels, curling around her mind and her hearts. The feeling of total safety that washes over her whenever she steps inside the ship is something she can’t quite remember ever having. It unnerves her and she clenches her jaw, trying to make the feeling go away.

 

No one says a word to her as she lingers near the door, but Mels manages to catch fragments of their whispered conversion anyway. 

 

“...does that mean we can’t…”

 

“...she was there all…”

 

“...that means River is…”

 

That name again. 

 

_ River. _

 

It burns at her, and the timelines flowing around her pull tighter, almost suffocating the air from her lungs. The easing safety from the ship pushes back, soothing the needles of time and slowly allowing Mels to breath again. It dawns on her slowly, and she gasps at the realisation. The TARDIS is sentient. And not just that, it’s  _ talking _ to her,  _ protecting _ her. She rubs harshly at her eyes and begs the ship to  _ leave her the fuck alone,  _ because there is enough weirdness going on in her life right now without a piece of machinery thinking it can have a polite conversation with her _.  _

 

The comforting hums dull, still there, but whispered, hidden behind layers of something else. The ship is just like the Doctor, buzzing under her skin with a knowing and amused hum. She fights the childish impulse to glare at the wall. 

 

“It’s not her fault,” she suddenly hears the Doctor say, his voice louder than it previously has been. It draws her attention, which she figures is his plan in the first place. “They brainwashed it into her. She’s still your daughter, still your best friend. That hasn’t changed.”

 

The cloister bell chimes, and before her parents can reply, the Doctor practically shoos them off the TARDIS, sparing Mels a small glance and a smile as he passes. He isn’t at all wary of her, the woman who wants - needs - to kill him, and it has her head spinning in confusion. 

 

She follows after him to find herself on a street in front of a row of houses. There’s a bright red convertible parked in front of them that has Rory’s eyes lighting up, and a house with a TARDIS blue front door just off to their right.

 

“Doctor?” Amy’s voice is questioning but Mels can hear the raw emotion hidden underneath.

 

The Doctor throws a set of keys up in the air, and Amy only just manages to catch them before they hit the tarmac. 

 

Mels watches, leaning against the TARDIS doors, as the scene unfolds in front of her. Rory practically drapes himself over the car until Amy asks him to give her a moment alone with the Doctor. He nods, and begins to head towards their new house, but the Doctor stops him with a hand on his shoulder. He pulls her father into a hug, Rory looking alarmed at the contact but otherwise returning the embrace. 

 

“Rory the Roman,” the Doctor says quietly, and his voice has Mels narrowing her eyes in suspicion. 

 

Rory nods slowly, mouth in a thin, confused line, and resumes his journey back to the TARDIS blue front door. Mels watches carefully as the Doctor moves back to her mother and the two of them sit side by side on the bonnet of her dad’s new car. Silence smothers them. 

 

There’s a pause, then Amy shifts, leaning into the Doctor slightly when she speaks.

 

“You’re leaving aren’t you?” 

 

“You haven’t seen the last of me,” the Doctor replies, and it’s a statement of fact, not a promise. 

 

“Why now? I’ve just found out I’m never getting my baby girl back,” she chokes slightly on her words, eyes flicking up to glance at Mels who quickly pretends to be looking elsewhere.

 

“Because...you’re still...breathing.”

 

“After everything we’ve been through, after all this, you can’t just drop me off at my house and say goodbye like we shared a cab.”

 

Mels knows her mother well enough to see when Amy is trying to hide just how distraught she is. She waits for the anger to resurface, and is surprised when nothing happens. In fact, looking at the Doctor, who’s watching Amy with such heartbreak in his eyes, Mels realises she feels nothing but sadness for the both of them. It makes her feel ill. 

 

“And what’s the alternative?” he says. “Me standing over your grave? Over your broken body? Over Rory’s broken body?”

 

There’s another pause, but then Amy pulls him towards her and they cling to each other like a lifeline. Mels confusion only grows when she realises - the Doctor is saying a final goodbye; he’ll never see her parents again. 

 

They pull apart slowly, and even though Mels knows how deeply Amy loves Rory, there’s something intimate in the way they stand in each other’s arms, like the universe was made just so this moment could exist. She feels like she shouldn’t be watching.

 

“What about Mels?” Amy finally whispers, and Mels gives up any pretense of pretending not to watch. 

 

“You’ll see River soon,” the Doctor replies though her mother doesn’t seem confused at his change in topic. “I’ll take Mels with me, try and help her shed some of the more murderous aspects of her programming.”

 

Amy nods understandingly, whispering a soft “take care of her, and please, take care of yourself” to him before turning to face Mels. She smiles, resigned, and moves past the Doctor to pull Mels into her arms. 

 

“Be good, Melody. I love you.”

 

Mels returns the hug, but otherwise stays silent. This feels too much like a farewell and she’s not quite ready to never see her mother again.

 

“Well,” the Doctor clears his throat. “Come along, Pond.”

 

Amy steps back from the TARDIS, a soft and sad smile resting on her lips, and the Doctor snaps his fingers. The TARDIS doors swing open and he holds his other hand out towards Mels in a sweeping gesture. 

 

_ Show off, _ she thinks, horrified to find a grin trying to inch its way onto her face. 

 

She steps into the TARDIS, the Doctor close behind her, and suddenly all she can think of is how she never got to say goodbye to Rory.

 

The Doctor darts past her quickly and pilots the TARDIS into the time vortex. Mels stays still, nervous and unsure, watching him silently fiddle with the controls. She takes a deep breath, trying to find the confidence she knows she has inside her, and slowly makes her way up the stairs to stand opposite him at the console. 

 

_ It’s beautiful _ , she finds herself thinking, staring at the random assortment of dials, buttons, and levers. Somehow the layout makes  _ sense _ , and she forces back an angry growl when she realises the ship is in her head again. 

 

“I could kill you in four separate ways right now,” she says without thinking, not sure if she’s talking about the Doctor or his ship. 

 

His response is nothing like she expects it to be -  _ he’s _ nothing like she expects him to be. He laughs, eyes brightening up after the heartbreak of leaving her mother. 

 

“River Song could kill me in at least ten,” he replies matter of factly. 

 

_ River. _

 

_ Song. _

 

_ River Song. _

 

She finally has a surname to put to the ridiculous firstname. The woman’s full moniker is even more absurd than she could have imagined. 

 

“River Song,” she murmurs, testing the words on her tongue. “A friend of yours?”

 

He smiles smugly at that, sweeping a hand over the side of his head to smooth down any errant hairs. He’s almost  _ preening _ in front of her, and Mels curls her lip in disgust, watching his smile turn easily into a proud grin that stretches across his face. 

 

“More than a friend I think…” she mutters, much to his apparent delight.

 

“So, Mels. Melody. Melody Pond. I promised I’d show you the universe. Where do you want to start?”

 

“I tried to kill you,” she deadpans. 

 

“Nah, you pointed a gun at me. I’ve had much better murder attempts than that.”

 

She stares at him incredulously but doesn’t rise to the obvious bait.

 

“My parents, Amy and Rory,” she clarifies, because she’s never actually called them her parents out loud before, and the word feels strange in her mouth. “They’re never going to see me again are they?”

 

He closes his eyes and lets out a breath at her question. There’s a pregnant pause before he moves round the console to stand beside her. His hands nonchalantly flip a couple of switches, but she knows that’s an excuse for invading her personal space - because somehow she knows exactly what those switches do.

 

“It’s...complicated,” he says by way of an explanation, and the way his mouth forms around the words suggests he wants to say something else entirely. “You’ll see each other again, but…”

 

He  _ wants _ to tell her, but something is stopping him. The timelines prick at her skin once again and she wonders if that’s her answer. 

 

\--

 

They travel together for what feels like ages, but in reality is only a couple of days in linear time. The Doctor shows her the stars, both in the future and in the past. She sees suns die and galaxies born. Space is beautiful and she easily finds herself thirsting for more adventure. She’s starting to see now what Amy sees when she looks at her Raggedy Man. A mad man with a box, with the whole universe at his fingertips. 

 

But the all consuming anger is still there, dulled, resting, but not gone, not forgotten. She wonders if it’ll ever truly leave her. 

 

Eventually, they find themselves thrown out onto a war torn planet - “the TARDIS does as she pleases” is the Doctor’s only explanation, but the soft mourning buzz from the time ship sets something heavy inside her heart and Mels realises with a suspicious twinge in her gut, that the Doctor has been studiously avoiding any kind of real adventure - any kind of conflict - until now. 

 

They’re not there long before everything goes to shit and they find themselves in the middle of a war. Weapons fire blankets the sky above them, blocking out what little sun peeks out from the overcast grey, the sounds of the nearby artillery mercifully drowning out the screams of the dying. Mels quickly pilfers a pistol from the holster of an unsuspecting soldier, ignoring the way the Doctor’s jaw clenches when she checks the ammunition and cocks the gun ready for use. The only thing that matters now is getting back to the TARDIS without dying, she couldn’t care less about his hypocritical morals. 

 

“What’s this war even about?” she shouts over the noise of the nearby mortar fire. 

 

The Doctor ignores her, his mouth set in a stern line, his face grim as he stalks past soldier after soldier. He’s been completely silent since he’d talked to one of the Generals in the High Command unit, and it has Mels on high alert. She’s not worried for the Doctor, because her views on him still haven’t changed; he’s still the monster who has burned planets whole. No, she’s worried for herself, and for the small children she’s seen huddled in crappy makeshift shelters throughout the battlefield. 

 

Mels knows better than anyone that children can be weapons, but not these ones. 

 

“How can we stop it?” she presses, grabbing his arm to force him to respond.

 

He stops when she tugs on his sleeve, finally acknowledging her.

 

“We can’t. We need to leave.”

 

“What?”

 

“We can’t sta-”

 

His words are cut off as a fresh wave of gunfire explodes beside them. Before she has time to think, Mels pushes the Doctor out of harm's way, shoving him to the ground and covering his body with her own. She needs him to pilot the TARDIS out of this hell hole, she reasons with herself - ignoring that she knows perfectly well how the controls work. 

 

Searing pain lances through Mels’ side when she moves, shifting off the Doctor and onto the muddy ground. Her hand flies to her ribs and she whimpers, twisting onto her back and letting her her head thud against the metal barricade behind her. Eyes losing focus, she blinks slowly, pulling her hand away to stare at the fresh, red blood coating her skin.  _ Shit. _

 

“Melody!” the Doctor shouts, scrambling back towards her, hands flying to the gaping wound in her torso as her breathing becomes shallow.

 

“I really...hate...regenerating,” she bites out, hand gripping his and smearing a streak of blood across his skin. “Last time I did it, I ended up a fucking toddler again.”

 

His hand is tight in hers, his eyes a mix of emotions, but he almost seems  _ excited _ to see her die. It’s not a welcoming thought. 

 

“I’ve got you, Mels.” He hasn’t called her Mels since they left her parents. Always Melody. “You’ll be okay.”

 

He only lets go of her as the golden glow of regeneration energy begins to line her skin. At first, it tingles, similar to the familiar needling pull of time around her, but too soon it begins to  _ burn. _ She feels herself dying a thousand times, her body twisting and turning and coming apart at the seams, regeneration tearing her DNA to shreds and rebuilding it anew. 

 

The sound of war drains away until all she can hear is pain. 

 

Stars are born and burn out behind her eyelids, she can feel the entire universe stretching through her bones. 

 

She screams as she dies. 

 

And then it’s gone. The pain and glow fade. Her eyes open slowly to find the Doctor grinning down at her like his Christmas has come early. 

 

“Hello,” he says, voice giddy. 

 

“Hey, I - oh, deeper voice now? Well, that’ll take some getting used to. It’s like I’ve gone all  _ mature _ .”

 

He holds his hand out to her, and she goes to take it before jerking back slightly in surprise when she notices her change in skin tone. She stands, wobbling in her heeled boots, not used to her new centre of gravity, and finds she’s a few inches taller now as well. Mels stretches, fingers locking together and arms raising above her head. She doesn’t miss the bob of the Doctor’s adam’s apple when he swallows, his eyes dragging over her new form. A smirk falls easily into place.

 

Her new body is attractive then. Brilliant.

 

It’s only when her hands drop back down to her sides does she notice her  _ hair;  _ big enough to be caught in her peripheral vision. And dear god, there’s a lot of it. Tight, blonde curls framing her head like a demonic halo. 

 

“The hair,” she mutters out loud and the Doctor’s beaming face shines brighter. 

 

“Brilliant hair!” he laughs, all the grim attitude of before disappearing in the midst of her regeneration. “All the secrets of time and space in there.” 

 

He’s smiling at her like she’s the most important thing in the world and it makes something uncomfortable burn in her gut. She clenches her teeth together, because he really is rather attractive and she really needs to not think about that.

 

The post regeneration glow of emotions thankfully doesn’t last long.

 

A siren, like the air raid warnings from old WWII era Britain, blasts through the air and the Doctor jumps, eyes going wide. He flips out his sonic, scanning it frantically through the air, and his face falls at the readout it produces. 

 

“We need to go,” he says, voice leaving no room for argument. “Now.”

 

His hand grips hers and Mels almost yanks it away, unnerved by the revelation that her new hand fits almost perfectly in his. She struggles to keep up with him, still getting used to how her new body works, but he’s relentless, tugging her forwards whenever she starts to lag behind. 

 

“Doctor, stop! We need to help them. There are  _ children! _ ” 

 

Melody Pond might not care for many, but children who have no choice in their lives will  _ always  _ have a soft spot in her hearts. And right now the Doctor - Amy’s space whale saving Doctor - is dooming them to die.

 

“Melody.” He stops running, pulls her towards him until she’s stood inches from his chest, and her breath catches in her throat at the sudden lack of space between them. “Both sides are about to detonate bombs a thousand times worse than the nukes used in World War Two. The planet will split apart. Everyone will die.”

 

“Then save them,” she begs, hating how weak her voice sounds in her ears.

 

His eyes close briefly but he otherwise ignores her, resuming his frantic rush back to the TARDIS. Hand still in his, she can’t do much but be dragged along, eyes widening in horror as she watches bright green clouds explode on the horizon.

 

The pilfered pistol is still in her hand - the hand that isn’t currently gripped tightly by the Doctor’s - it feels heavy, a burden she has to bare. 

 

She’s about to do something incredibly stupid when she realises they’ve already made it back to the TARDIS. The Doctor all but throws her inside, the doors slamming shut behind them. He ignores her struggle to get back to the battlefield, to help, to do  _ something _ \- the TARDIS seemingly on his side - and runs to the console to pilot them out of there.

 

The TARDIS shakes violently. Fear spikes through her and she wonders just how indestructable the time ship is, if the wooden exterior can really protect them from the green super nukes bombarding the planet. 

 

The Doctor yelps, the console sparking beneath his fingers, and the turbulence increases, sending Mels crashing against the stairs. Her hip hits the railing and she hisses at what would no doubt become a nasty bruise if regeneration energy wasn’t still bubbling beneath her skin. The TARDIS lands with a screaming jolt, the cloister bell rings, and the doors swing open violently. Mels is catapulted out into painfully bright sunshine, landing face down in warm, yellow sand. 

 

She groans, body surprisingly sore, and rolls onto her back to stare up at bright blue - non-nuclear - skies. Scrambling to her feet, she notices the Doctor has already made his way out of the TARDIS, hand stretched out as if he’d planned to help her up. Mels ignores him, turning away from the TARDIS to find herself staring at a beautiful aquamarine lake spanning out in front of them. She steps towards the shoreline and isn’t surprised when he follows her.  

 

Time feels  _ wrong _ here. It’s tight and compact and it almost hurts to exist alongside it.

 

“Lake Silencio.” He says the name slowly, resigned. 

 

She twists her head towards him to see a small pained smile on his face. 

 

“We’re at a fixed point,” he murmurs, looking out at the lake, talking more to himself than to her. 

 

Mels’ head hurts, squeezing out behind her eyes as the timelines shift and pull around them. She feels her anger inside her chest, burning stronger than she’s ever felt it before, and her eyes are drawn to the TARDIS. The doors are still open, the faint hum from the ship reaching out into the desert they’re stood in. The feeling is no longer a comfort, it’s sharper, angrier; the TARDIS sounds  _ pained. _

 

“Save them,” she says softly, avoiding looking at him as he watches her, an unreadable expression on his face. 

 

“I can’t,” he says, voice blank; no pain, no determination.

 

“Save them!” she all but screams.  _ Like you couldn’t save me.  _ “Take us back there now, and save them!”

 

“I can’t, Melody. Those bombs going off are a fixed point. That planet is dead. It  _ has  _ to die. I can’t save them!” 

 

His voice has changed, he’s begging her to understand, but it still lacks anything she recognises as  _ caring _ . 

 

Or maybe she’s just too far gone in her anger to hear it.

 

Amy had told her that the Doctor worked wonders, saved people when there wasn’t a chance, even when they didn’t want or deserve to be saved. Why would these people, this planet, be any different? Why didn’t he stop Hitler? Why didn’t he save the Titanic?

 

Why does he get to play God and decide who gets to live? 

 

All rationality leaves her and the timelines pulse between them.

 

Her gun flies up.

 

“Then what use are you.”

 

Without thinking, her conditioning, her anger, her pain, it all kicks in and her finger squeezes the trigger. Direct shot to his chest. 

 

One heart down. 

 

He staggers, hand gripping his chest, and his blood spills out from between his fingers. “River.” The woman’s name is barely a breath, slipping from his lips like a prayer. 

 

“She’s not here,” Mels spits.

 

He only smiles weakly at that, once again in on a joke she doesn’t know the punchline to. He drops to his knees, collapsing onto the sand, and time begins to scream around them. It’s with a dawning sense of horror that she realises it’s not just time, but the TARDIS, crying for her Time Lord. 

 

A part of her feels guilty at the sound, but everything else is chanting ‘ _ kill’ _ .

 

“Do me a favour, Melody,” he chokes out.

 

She watches him carefully, detached, waiting for the telltale glow of regeneration to begin so she can finally end the life of the man she’s spent her whole life being trained to kill. She remains silent but he carries on regardless. 

 

“Find River. Find River Song.  _ Please _ . And tell her…” he coughs and the hand not clutched over his chest slaps down onto the sand, his body curling in on itself. “She is forgiven, always and completely. No matter what. And that...”

 

He’s struggling to speak but Mels isn’t entirely sure it’s due to the bullet in his heart. 

 

“Tell her that I love her. And that I know I never said it enough. Tell her...tell her that I’m sorry.” 

 

The words rush out all at once, so fast that she barely registers what he’s saying. 

 

But before she has a chance to back down, before she regrets what she’s doing, before he  _ wins _ , her finger is back on the trigger. And as the golden glow of regeneration begins, a second bullet finds his second heart, and the Doctor drops to the sand. 

 

Dead. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of ignored the ‘he’s on his last regeneration’ thing since there was originally a 12 regeneration limit, and with the inclusion of the war doctor, that would make Eleven the Twelfth Doctor, meaning he’d have one regeneration left (i tend to ignore the ‘10 regenerated and stayed the same' thing...because it makes the whole regeneration iterations too weird). 
> 
> And anyway, Moffat also ignored this when the Doctor/teselecta started to give off regeneration energy on the show...so...
> 
> And I know a few people wanted Mels to stick around for a while longer, but I had to get to River's regeneration sooner or later. Though, fear not, her personality sticks around for a bit as she learns who she is now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack sighs, face losing some of his usual charming sparkle. He looks like he wants to reach for her, hands twitching by his sides, but he must think better of it because his arms cross over his chest instead. 
> 
> “Amy and Rory...they know you in the future. As…” He gestures at her and it takes Mels a moment to realise she’s no longer the dark skinned best friend Amy and Rory know her as. “Going back now, when you’re still grieving over-”
> 
> “I’m not grieving!” she snaps, slightly too quickly. 
> 
> “Sorry, wrong word. But Ri-Melody, you have to trust me when I say this is the best place for you. The Church will be looking for you, and for now, you’re safe here.”

Mels sits in the sand, gun lying forgotten beside her, an emptiness buzzing in her head. The reason for her existence is gone, her destiny fulfilled, and she feels there’s no point in anything anymore. So she sits, waiting for her punishment from the universe.

 

She’s not sat long when a horrible crackling sound fills the air - the same spine wrenching noise she heard all those months ago in her parents’ back garden. The sound is accompanied by a bright flash of white light, and when Mels’ vision clears, there’s a man standing in front of her. He looks sadly at the crumpled body of the deceased Time Lord before his gaze shifts to her.

 

“Melody?” he asks, American accent curling around her name.

 

“Who’s asking?” she replies bitterly, her fingers twitching next to the gun.

 

“You can shoot me if you like,” he says, his eyes flicking between the gun and her hand. “Won’t make a heap of difference.”

 

She doesn’t dignify that with a verbal response. Instead, the gun is back in her hand and her finger is on the trigger, squeezing tightly before her mind catches up. The gunshot echoes across the lake, somehow louder than the ones that killed the Doctor, and the man crumples to the ground in much the same way the Time Lord did.

 

Mels feels numb; the thump of the gun hitting the sand barely heard over the sound of her hearts beating in her ears.

 

She sits. Waits. For nothing, for something.

 

Not even the wind makes a sound as it blows the sands of Lake Silencio gently around her.

 

Then suddenly, there’s a death defying gasp, and the man sits up, greedily dragging air into his lungs. His hand moves to rub over the gunshot wound in his chest, and Mels scrambles backwards towards the shoreline, a soft, horrified yelp leaving her mouth. The man stands, wincing, and rotates his shoulders backwards, neck cracking when he tilts his head to the side.

 

“Wish I could say that’s the first time you’ve done that,” he mutters morbidly.

 

After a moment, Mels refusing to move from her wide eyed position near the shoreline, he sighs and steps forward to crouch down in front of her. She tenses, waiting for - she’s not sure what. But this man has just cheated death. No regeneration, not a Time Lord. She isn’t sure _what_ he is.

 

“Captain Jack Harkness, at your service.” There’s a grin on his face, and in another time or place, she’d find him attractive. But not here, not now. Not when she feels so empty and undone - and scared - inside.

 

“What are you? Why are you here?” she finally gasps out, horrified to find tears beginning to line her cheeks.

 

“What I am is a very long story. But I’m here because he asked me to come.”

 

Her head snaps up, her eyes instantly meeting his. He looks sincere and slightly apologetic, and a cold sense of dread wells up inside her.

 

“He?” she asks, though - no matter how impossible - she already knows the answer.

 

“The Doctor.”

 

“The Doctor is dead.”

 

“Yes,” he agrees, pain lining his face and voice. “He is...But he wasn’t always.”

 

Her confusion shows on her face, because Jack continues to speak.

 

“Time travel. Takes a bit to get your head around it. But he knew this day was coming. A fixed point he told me. Couldn’t avoid his death. But he wanted you to be okay.”

 

_A fixed point._

 

Like the planet.

 

The planet she killed him over, because he wouldn’t - _couldn’t_ \- save it.

 

She has just murdered a man in cold blood and even from the grave he wants her to be okay. Mels lets out a choked sob, so caught up in her own emotional turmoil that she allows Jack to wrap his arms around her.

 

“Come on. Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

 

He reaches around her to press something on his wrist and Mels feels herself being wrenched apart. An ear splitting screech tears through her skull, her body folding in on itself before knitting back together again. It feels a lot like regeneration and she suddenly feels like she’s going to vomit.

 

“Vortex manipulator,” Jack explains and Mels realises she spoke aloud. “Cheap and nasty time travel.”

 

It’s only then, as the nausea begins to pass, that she notices they’re no longer on the sandy edges of Lake Silencio. They’re surrounded by trees now, the canopy above them so thick that only the smallest slivers of light make it down to the forest floor.

 

“The Gamma Forests,” he says, replying to her unasked question. “They’re neutral to the Church, so you’re safe from any of _that_ bullshit.”

 

Her hearts stutter at the mention of the Church, the people who ripped her life away from her as surely as the Doctor had. But she forces the thoughts back, because surely if this was a trap, Jack wouldn’t have mentioned them in the first place.

 

“He wanted me to bring you here. Let you figure out your own path in life. Learn who you are.” A secretive smile appears on his face, and Mels grimaces, already really fed up of people knowing things she doesn’t.

 

Besides, she already knows who she is; a stint in a far off alien forest isn’t going to change that.

 

Jack slowly leads her towards the nearby structure. It’s a grey and nondescript building, covered in moss and leaves, but it still reminds her of the dark and dreary places she grew up in - before Leadworth and her parents - and Mels has to swallow down the anxiety that curls its way around her hearts.

 

As she walks into the unknown, blindly following a man she’s only just met - a man who wouldn’t stay dead even with a bullet in his heart - she longs for the gun left on the beaches of Lake Silencio; in fact, she longs for the comfort of any kind of weapon at all. Jack pushes on the heavy metal door and holds it open for her. She pauses, looking uncertainly into the darkness beyond, before straightening her shoulders and striding past him; body tense and ready for whatever is about to happen.

 

“Nothing’s going to happen you know,” Jack says beside her, letting the door swing shut behind them. “You can relax a bit.”

 

“I’m fine,” Mels bites out.

 

Jack laughs.

 

“I know you. Your entire body is ready for a fight. But like I said on the beach, you’ll be safe here.” At her wide eyes, he grins - the grin she’s sure many men and women alike have fallen for - and continues speaking. “Unlike you and him, I can’t be bothered with all that spoilers shit. Far too annoying.”

 

“So you know me? In my future?”

 

“Very well.” He winks at her and Mels has to wonder just _how_ well Jack Harkness knows her in her future. Because since the moment he appeared he’s understood her thoughts even better than she has. And she really doesn’t like that at all.

 

She doesn’t respond to him, and they fall into a somewhat comfortable silence as he leads her down the dark hallway. There are doors on either side of them, with varying letters and numbers marked into the wood, but none of it means anything to her and she’s too high strung with nerves to try and figure it out.

 

Eventually, they make it to a door at the end of the hallway. Jack pushes carefully on the old wood, opening the door and once again gesturing for her to go first.

 

Mels enters slowly, eyes shifting over the room, taking in all the exits, all the dangers - just how she’s been trained to do. The room looks like a study of some kind; massive bookcases lined with dusty old texts sit against the walls, a long wooden table that has seen better days in the middle, and a big shiny desk straight in front of her.

 

“Ah, Melody Pond,” an old, kind sounding voice has her jerking her head towards the back corner of the room. A man steps out of the shadows, a book in hand, and moves behind the desk.

 

He looks like she always imagined Albus Dumbledore would; before the movies came out and ruined everything. Amy had loved those movies when they were kids, but Mels has always preferred books - Harry Potter or not.

 

The Albus Dumbledore look-a-like sits down in the high backed chair behind the desk, the book beneath his hands, and looks up at her expectantly. The door she’s just come through shuts gently and with a small spike of fear - which Mels pushes away instantly; she’s a fighter, not some frail and scared child - she realises Jack has left her alone with this new man.

 

“I…what’s going on? What am I doing here?”

 

The man smiles. It’s an open, friendly smile, but it does nothing to calm her unease; she knows from experience that anyone can pretend to be nice.

 

“We owe the Doctor a great deal of gratitude for the help he’s bestowed on us in the past. And when he came to us, asking us to give you shelter, we were more than happy to oblige. Now…” He opens the book and runs his finger down the page. Mels can just about see hundreds of names and numbers written in a curling, inked font. “I’m afraid this facility doesn’t have much room at the moment, but we do have a spare bed for you in 36-X-B.”

 

He looks up and Mels stares at him blankly, mouth slightly open. Her head is buzzing with a thousand different thoughts; _what the fuck is going on_ ? and _where the fuck am I?_ But the foremost question burning on her tongue is the one she will never ask aloud; who _is_ the Doctor? Is he the demon who burns down worlds, or the mad man with a box who saves them?

 

“Oh, I apologise Miss Pond,” the man says, standing from his chair and holding out a hand to her. She takes it slowly, still unsure if she’s as safe here as everyone keeps saying she is. “Chairman Bucket. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

 

\--

 

After a brief introduction to the Gamma Forests, in which Chairman Bucket fails to explain anything useful to her, Mels is directed to 36-X-B to find Jack Harkness waiting for her. He’s leant against the wall, cocky grin in place, and she’s surprised to find relief flood through her at the realisation that he hasn’t left her here alone.

 

“What are you doing here? Thought you’d left me.”

 

“Worried were you?” he replies, cocky grin still in place.

 

“No. I was getting tired of your face,” she mumbles, but the way his eyes light up as he lets out a laugh tells her that he knows she’s lying.

 

“Well, I need to make sure you’re settled in before I love you and leave you. Otherwise future you would kick my ass.”

 

“I bet you’d like that...” Mels says, scrunching her nose and grinning. He laughs again, not surprised at her sudden flirting, and tosses her a key.

 

She catches it easily, turning it over in her hand before shoving it into the keyhole and unlocking the door to room 36-X-B. She pushes the door open to find a small, grey room. There are two beds, one on either side of the small space, and at the foot of each of them sits a small wooden desk, complete with a quaint little desk lamp. There’s a door off to the side, which Mels assumes leads to a bathroom, and between the two beds are two chests, most likely for clothing and personal possessions.

 

The covers on the bed to her right are slightly rumpled and Mels turns to face Jack when he moves to stand beside her.

 

“So who am I bunking with?” she asks.

 

“The Chairman’s daughter. I don’t know much about her, other than her name.”

 

“He’s put me in with his _daughter?_ He doesn’t know a thing about me does he?”

 

Jack winces, and the slight shake of his head tells her everything she needs to know.

 

“This is ridiculous. I’m leaving.”

 

She still doesn’t understand why she’s been brought here. Neutral to the Church means nothing if she has to spend her life in a dull, grey room, surrounded by dull, grey people just to be safe from the Order.

 

“And going where?”

 

“I don't know. Maybe back to Leadworth.” _Maybe back to my parents._

 

“You really think that’s a great idea?”

 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” she hisses.

 

Jack sighs, face losing some of his usual charming sparkle. He looks like he wants to reach for her, hands twitching by his sides, but he must think better of it because his arms cross over his chest instead.

 

“Amy and Rory...they know you in the future. As…” He gestures at her and it takes Mels a moment to realise she’s no longer the dark skinned best friend Amy and Rory know her as. “Going back now, when you’re still grieving over-”

 

“I’m _not_ grieving!” she snaps, slightly too quickly.

 

“Sorry, wrong word. But Ri-Melody, you have to trust me when I say this is the best place for you. The Church will be looking for you, and _for now,_ you’re safe here.”

 

Mels clenches her jaw tightly, and looks for any sign that Jack is lying to her. She finds nothing of course, either because he’s too used to fooling her or because he’s entirely sincere. She sighs heavily through her nose and nods once, resigned to staying in this dull and drab place ‘for now’.

 

She throws herself on the unrumpled bed with a slightly petulant huff, only to shake her head when her hair ends up falling in her eyes. Jack stifles a laugh from the doorway, amusement dancing in his own eyes as he watches her.

 

“I’ll stay,” she says, attempting to pull her unruly hair back into some sort of ponytail, only to hiss in pain when her fingers catch in the curls. “For now.”

 

“Good, I...” He interrupts himself to lean back out into the hallway and she can hear him great someone who’s out of her line of sight.

 

A moment later, a young girl, barely out of her teens and no doubt the owner of the messy bed, bounces into the room.

 

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” the girl says, eyes bright and smile wide. “My name’s Lorna.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't know who Lorna Bucket is...go google her so you truly understand the pain I'm bringing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two of them find a spare table, set slightly away from the rest of the crowded room, and Mels barely waits for Lorna to be seated before she’s shoving a handful of grapes into her mouth. The flavour bursts across her tongue and Mels gags.
> 
> “What the hell are these?” she asks, spitting the grapes back onto her plate and receiving a disgusted look from Lorna.
> 
> “Grapes…” the girl says slowly, eyeing Mels worryingly.
> 
> “Like...alien grapes?”
> 
> “Standard human colony grapes. Like the kind you’d find on the human homeworld.”
> 
> “No, no. I like grapes. I love grapes. These…” She prods the chewed up mush with her finger. “...are not grapes.”

Jack leaves soon after Lorna appears, with a promise to see them both soon, leaving Mels alone with her thoughts - or as alone as she can be with a roommate who wants to know everything about her.

 

The constant questions soon become dangerously annoying - because why does it matter what her favourite colour is - and Mels has to excuse herself to the bathroom before Lorna ends up with a desk lamp to the face.

 

She’s been staring at her reflection for the better part of half an hour now, taking in every line, every blemish. Her hair is even bigger than she’d first thought, and Mels has to wonder why it always ends up difficult and unmanageable.

 

Eventually, she moves on from her face to explore the rest of her new self. Whilst more mature than her last, this new body is no less taught, with curves for days and an ass that makes her promise to wear lots of jodhpurs in the future.

 

As far as regeneration goes, she could have ended up with something a lot worse.

 

A timid knock on the bathroom door draws her attention away from herself and Mels sighs at the thought of having to rejoin the real world. She opens the door quickly to find a surprised Lorna standing in front of her. The girl stares, open mouthed, and Mels quirks an eyebrow.

 

“Uh, I...dinner is being served soon. I could bring you something if you want to stay here or we could, maybe, go together?”

 

If she’s being perfectly honest with herself, the idea of sitting alone and thinking about the gunshots on Lake Silencio’s shore is not something Mels particularly wants to deal with right now. So with a forced smile, she nods at Lorna and tells her to lead the way. The girl’s face lights up happily and she all but drags Mels out of their room and down the corridor.

 

“I know this place isn’t much,” she says, though Mels is only half listening - a part of her wondering why she’s allowing the girl to touch her. “But it’s a nice community. Things can get a bit boring every now and then though, which is why I’m going to leave once I hit twenty one. Joining the Church isn’t for everyone, but-”

 

Lorna is tugged backwards, hand still on Mels’ arm, as Mels jerks to a stop. All the colour drains from Mels’ face, bile rises in her throat, her jaw tightens.

 

“I thought,” she chokes out through clenched teeth, eyes darting from Lorna, to the hallway, to the doors set in the walls, waiting for the shadows that had haunted her childhood to appear and drag her back down into hell. “I thought the forests were neutral to the Church.”

 

“They are,” Lorna replies, looking at Mels with such concern that it causes the older woman’s stomach to lurch uncomfortably. “But they might be my only chance for getting out of here. So I can meet _him_ again.”

 

She says the pronoun as if Mels should know who ‘him’ is, though she’s got an awful feeling ‘him’ is the one person she doesn’t want it to be.

 

The corridor feels too cramped, and Mels feels too warm. This sweet, young girl wants to join the monsters who’d ruined her childhood, who’d stolen her from her parents. She swallows down the painful lump of emotion in her throat, and curls her hands tightly into fists.

 

“Lorna, the Church isn’t as good as people think it is.”

 

“Oh,” a small smile returns to her face. “No, I know. But they’re searching for the Doctor, aren’t they?”

 

Her hearts skip a beat at the mention of his name - _his thumb on her wrist, the affection for her in his eyes_ \- and Mels feels like she’s forgotten how to breathe. Lorna must take her silence as confirmation because she carries on talking like Mels isn’t falling apart beside her.

 

“He saved my life when I was younger, got me and my best friend out of some trouble. And then he left, flew off in his box and I never saw him again - though father says he’s been back once or twice, but never long enough for me to talk to him. If I join the Church, maybe I can help him one day, like he helped me.”

 

The weird sense of fear that has been building inside her lessens at the girl’s words.

 

“You want to...help him?” She forces down the hysterical laugh that threatens to bubble out of her. “But he’s dangerous. Why would you want to help him?”

 

“Dangerous? He _saves_ people, Melody! He’s the Mighty Warrior, sent from above to protect us in our hour of need. And if I can do one thing to help him in return, I will die in peace.”

 

She’s staring at Mels, eyes wide, begging her to understand, but all Mels can think about is the way the Doctor’s body had hit the sand when he died. She swallows thickly, not comfortable with a girl as young as Lorna thinking about death already - especially when her ideas of death involve the Doctor - and pushes the memories out of her mind.

 

Forcing a small smile and nodding slightly, hoping Lorna believes she understands the girl’s - frankly quite horrific - point of view, Mels starts walking again, putting the conversation behind them.

 

To her relief, they reach the food hall with no other comment on the Church or the Doctor, and as the large double doors are pushed open, the smell of food overwhelms her and Mels realises she hasn’t eaten in far too long. She follows Lorna to where the food is piled high on two grand tables at the edge of the hall, and fills her plate with everything that looks edible.

 

The two of them find a spare table, set slightly away from the rest of the crowded room, and Mels barely waits for Lorna to be seated before she’s shoving a handful of grapes into her mouth. The flavour bursts across her tongue and Mels gags.

 

“What the hell are these?” she asks, spitting the grapes back onto her plate and receiving a disgusted look from Lorna.

 

“Grapes…” the girl says slowly, eyeing Mels worryingly.

 

“Like...alien grapes?”

 

“Standard human colony grapes. Like the kind you’d find on the human homeworld.”

 

“No, no. I like grapes. I _love_ grapes. These…” She prods the chewed up mush with her finger. “...are not grapes.”

 

Lorna, her head bowed as she bites a chip in half, doesn’t reply.

 

Mels lets out a huff of air and sits back in her chair, eyeing her plate and wondering if everything on it will taste like ash now. She knows regeneration changes more than just appearance, that it can change your likes and dislikes, but she’s never noticed tastes changing before. Though before she regenerated from Melody - a part of her worries that she calls herself a different name when thinking of her first body, and she briefly wonders if she should change her name once again now she’s on her third regeneration - her food choices hadn’t been the most varied, eating standard nutrition packets for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Mels can still remember the first time she ever tasted chocolate; Amy hadn’t been able to stop laughing at her over enthusiastic reaction for hours.

 

Her eyes widen slightly at the memory and her hand shoots out to grab the chocolate muffin balanced on the edge of her plate. Her teeth sink into the cake, scraping into the paper wrapper, and Mels groans in relief at the taste.

 

“Thank god,” she moans around the muffin in her mouth.

 

Lorna is trying to avoid looking at her, a pinkish hue to her cheeks. Mels doesn’t really care if she’s embarrassing the young girl, but if they’re going to be sleeping in the same room for the foreseeable future, she might as well _try_ to be friendly with her.

 

“I, uh, do you know much about regeneration?” she says, watching Lorna’s eyes flick up to her.

 

Lorna swallows whatever she’s been eating, and raises her head, shaking it slightly.

 

“The...Doctor…” Mels only just manages to avoid choking on his name. “His people, Time Lords, change their bodies when they die.”

 

 _As long as someone doesn’t stop the process,_ she thinks, drawing in a deep breath and wondering why she’s doing this to herself. Because once again, all she can see is his body lying on the shore of Lake Silencio.

 

“It changes lots of things, not just appearance. I...I’m not the same species, I’m human, but have...a few Time Lord qualities. I regenerate too.”

 

Lorna’s eyes are big and bright and full of wonder, and she’s staring at Mels like she’s the most interesting thing she’s ever seen. It makes Mels feel uncomfortable.

 

“This body is new. So the grapes, the muffin…”

 

“You’ve got new tastes,” the girl says, catching on pretty quickly.

 

Mels nods, faltering slightly when Lorna shoves her own plate towards her.

 

“Chips!” she says excitedly. “You’ve got to like chips right?”

 

The excitement exuding from Lorna at the prospect of helping her rediscover her favourite tastes has Mels smiling wider than she has done in what feels like weeks. Together they move back to the food tables to grab an even wider assortment of tastes, and the emptiness inside her slowly begins to fade as she watches Lorna struggle back to their table with three full plates of food balanced in her arms.

 

“...bananas are great…”

 

“...oh what about chicken! You’ve got to try that…”

 

“...here, Melody, a fruit cake!...”

 

\--

 

It’s been just over a week since Jack dropped her off in the Gamma Forests and Mels finds herself settling in nicely. She’s different in this new body, less flighty, and certainly a lot more studious. She’s spent most of her time reading, trying to learn everything she can about, well, everything - the universe is a big place when you aren’t confined to 21st century Leadworth. It helps that the Chairman has a rather extensive library in his study and he graciously allows Mels to come and go as she pleases during the day to grab whatever new book has seized her interest.

 

She’s currently curled up in the corner of her bed, a book about the ancient civilisation of the Aplans of Alfava Metraxis propped up against her knees, trying to ignore Lorna’s inquiring stare.

 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she mutters, licking her finger and turning to the next page of her book.

 

Lorna shifts on her bed, and out of the corner of her eye Mels can see her cross and uncross her legs awkwardly.

 

“Melody?....Who’s Amy?”

 

Mels stills, book sliding down her knees to rest against her stomach as her grip on it loosens. She’s managed to avoid thinking about her life, about Amy and Rory, the Doctor, the Order, by throwing herself into learning about the universe. She should have known it wouldn’t last.

 

“How did you-”

 

“-know that name? Last night. You woke with it on your lips. Usually it’s just screams, or random words that don’t make sense. But last night you definitely said ‘Amy’.”

 

Mels swallows. She folds down the corner of the page she’s on before closing the book and dropping it gently onto the bed by her feet. She’s surprised the girl hasn’t complained to her father - in fact she’s surprised she hasn’t complained at all - to have one of them reassigned to a new room, because regardless of how much Lorna seems to like her, the constant interrupted sleep from Mels’ nightmares has to be driving the young girl insane.

 

“She’s my mother,” Mels says simply, the truth coming out a lot easier than expected. But then Lorna has been nothing but supportive and friendly since Mels has arrived in the Forests, so maybe it isn’t all that unexpected afterall.

 

“You call your mother by her name?”

 

“Had to, she didn’t know I was me.”

 

Lorna’s mouth drops open slightly, brows furrowing, but she stays silent and continues to stare at Mels, waiting for an explanation. Mels darts her eyes over to the other bed, and sighs, shifting her feet to the floor and turning her body to face Lorna.

 

“I...was taken at birth, by the...by an Order who wanted to raise a weapon. They experimented on me, changed me. They’re the reason I’m...more than human.”

 

She honestly doesn’t mean to spill her life story, but as soon as the words start, they won’t stop. In fact, it’s a relief to finally have someone _to_ tell. Someone who isn’t going to beat her for talking out of line, someone who won’t look at her like she’s insane, someone who doesn’t matter to her own personal timeline.

 

A friend.

 

“I managed to escape and find my parents, but...time travel was involved. They were only children themselves when I finally reached them, so I ended up growing up alongside them as their best friend instead of their daughter.”

 

Mels doesn’t notice Lorna move, too caught up in her past, but suddenly the girl is sat beside her, a tiny hand clutching hers and squeezing tightly.

 

“That’s...that’s awful,” she says, free hand moving up to Mels’ cheek and wiping away the tears Mels has been trying so hard to hold back. “Are those people the reason you have nightmares?”

 

Mels nods and draws in a shaky breath.

 

“I wasn't a child to them. I was a tool, to be moulded, to be used.” Her voice dips dangerously low. “I could kill you in six different ways right now, Lorna, before you even have the chance to blink.”

 

Lorna gasps softly, hand tightening slightly in hers, but she shows no other sign of fear and warmth spreads through Mels’ chest. Besides her parents - who don’t really count considering how little they know about her - she’s never had someone she’s considered a friend before now. A fierce protectiveness washes over her at the thought.

 

“But I won’t,” she says, turning to look determinedly into Lorna’s eyes and grabbing both of Lorna’s hands in hers. “You’ve barely known me a week, and here you are, doing your best to comfort me when you owe me nothing. I promise you this, Lorna Bucket, I won’t let anything happen to you, not on my watch.”

 

The bright smile on Lorna’s face in response to her words feels like watching a sunrise for the first time.

 

\--

 

Mels is in the middle of eating a plate of chips - because she can’t quite find it within herself to care about her figure at this point in her life, especially not when the chips in this place taste so damn good - when Lorna comes skipping through their open door. She smiles when she spots Mels and bites her bottom lip, eyes sparkling with mischief.

 

Despite herself, Mels can’t help the smile of her own that drifts lazily across her lips. Lorna has a way of making everything seem just that little bit brighter when she’s around.

 

“And what are you up to? Trouble I hope?” she says, biting into another chip and watching the young girl dance happily into the room. She jumps onto the end of the bed, the movement jostling the plate on Mels’ lap, and Mels only just manages to stop the pile of chips ending up on the floor.

 

“I’ve been working on something for the last few days,” Lorna says, shifting to rest on her knees. “And I’ve finally finished it.”

 

Mels raises an eyebrow at the lack of a real answer and waits patiently for the girl to explain herself further - which is something else new to this body. She has never really been the patient sort, finding it much easier to punch a kid in the playground than wait for Rory to find an adult, and even though there’s still the same amount of energy burning inside her as there always has been, she finds it a lot easier to keep it at bay now.

 

She has another chip halfway to her mouth when Lorna reaches into her pocket and draws out a piece of deep blue fabric. The chip drops from her fingers, tumbling down the pile on the plate and rolling onto the floor. But Mels barely notices, too fixed on the material held loosely in Lorna’s hands, the blue a perfect match for the TARDIS.

 

“I saw it, his ship, that time he save my life. It was only for a few seconds, but you can’t quite forget it, can you?”

 

Mels swallows, silently agreeing and trying _not_ to think about the deep blue ship - abandoned on a beach - and it’s murdered owner. Lorna holds the material out to her and Mels takes it with shaking hands, the plate of chips on her lap entirely forgotten. The material feels like silk against her fingertips, but she’s never seen anything that shimmers in the light the way this does. It’s perfectly crafted, the corners sewn into small points, and gold detailing hemmed around the edges. There’s a word sewn into the center and as she turns the material over in her hand, she finds another word on the reverse side. Mels’ mouth goes dry.

 

“It’s a prayer leaf,” Lorna explains, watching her carefully. “Something my people make as a sign a child will come home to their parents. And, well, after what you said about you and your parents, well…I just wanted you to have one.”

 

Mels is speechless, staring down at the beautifully crafted prayer leaf, fingers following the lines of the delicately sewn letters. Whilst she’s somewhat stunned that Lorna has made this for her, it’s not that which has Mels’ chest tightening with emotion.

 

“You...you don’t have to keep it if you don’t li-”

 

“No!” Mels interrupts her. “It’s beautiful, Lorna. I just...this isn’t…”

 

“It is. Your name, I mean. Traditionally, prayer leaves have to be written in Gamma - our ancient language. The only water in the forest is the river, so Gamma has no direct word for ‘pond’. Technically your name should translate into Song River, but I think River Song sounds better, don’t you?” she laughs, but Mels barely hears her.

 

_River Song._

 

_Find River. Find River Song. Please._

 

_Tell her she is forgiven, always and completely. No matter what._

 

_Tell her that I love her._

 

_Tell her that I’m sorry._

 

The ridiculous name. The woman who has hold of both the Doctor’s hearts, the woman he _loves_.

 

It’s her. It’s always been her.

 

Melody Pond.

 

River Song.

 

The woman who killed the Doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so she's finally going to be 'River' now. Thank god, because you have no idea how difficult it was to write newly regenerated young River whilst also having her still be a bit Mels.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack had smirked at her when she’d told him she wanted to study archaeology - because discovering history was so much better than just reading about it - and on the moon of all places. It was as if he’d already known, which considering their timelines, means he absolutely had. 
> 
> Which is exactly how River finds herself kneeling on the grass - real grass, on the moon - in the fifty first century, fingers curling into the dirt, and retching up her guts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the end of LKH it says River goes to university in the 52nd century (5123) but none of that makes sense when you look at her professorship (the Library episodes are in the 51st century and River's stint in Stormcage is all in the 51st century) so I’m just changing it all to be the 51st century. 
> 
> Also, this is sort of a filler chapter (sorry) but it's kind of super necessary. 
> 
> You'll all be happy to know, the Doctor is back next chapter.

It takes her a while to come to terms with River Song and what that name means. She battles between wanting a fresh start - to get away from Mels and Melody and allow herself to become her own person - and then also knowing she has no real choice in the decision, considering it’s practically fated for her to adopt the slightly ridiculous moniker.

 

Lorna, unsurprisingly, is nothing but helpful and understanding. Whilst everyone else in the Forests continues to call her Melody - not that she has much interaction with anyone other than Lorna and her father - in the privacy of their shared room, she helps Mels learn to be River.

 

“River?”

 

She looks up from the book she’s been staring blankly at for the last twenty minutes to find Lorna stood awkwardly at the end of her bed.

 

“What’s the matter?” River asks, closing the unread book with a small, resigned sigh.

 

Lorna looks nervous, hands fidgeting awkwardly by her sides, and it sets off warning signals in River’s head. She lets her book drop to the bed beside her and swings her legs round to stand. 

 

“Jack’s here,” Lorna says quietly.

 

“And that’s a problem, why?” 

 

She moves to stand in front of the younger girl and Lorna pauses, eyes searching the room, looking everywhere except at River. Anxiety starts to bubble up in River’s chest, and she clenches her fists by her sides to stop herself from reaching out and grabbing Lorna’s shoulders.

 

“Because it’s time for you to leave,” Lorna finally says, her voice betraying how much she doesn’t want to be having this conversation. 

 

Their eyes meet and River’s hearts clench painfully at the realisation that, for some reason, this is apparently goodbye. A shuddering breath escapes her.

 

“What?” It’s barely a whisper but Lorna flinches regardless. “But I don’t...where can I go?”

 

“I don’t know. I don’t want you to leave either, River. But Jack says it’s time. I wanted to tell you before he did. I wanted to say goodbye.”

 

She’s not ready for goodbye, not with Lorna. Not with the only  _ real  _ friend she’s ever had. River’s not sure what she’s about to say, but she’s saved from whatever it was going to be by Jack appearing in the open doorway, silhouetted against the bright lights of the corridor outside.

 

Anger floods through her at the sight of him and River is across the room, sending Jack to the floor with a well placed fist to the jaw before either of them knows what’s happening. He winces, hand cradling his chin, and props himself up off the floor with his other hand.

 

“Hello to you too, Melody.”

 

“It’s River now,” she all but spits at him. 

 

“Oh, good,” he replies, rolling onto his knees and slowly stepping to his feet. “Then it’s definitely time for you to leave the Forests, River. I’m sorry.”

 

“I don’t want to go.” 

 

If he’s surprised by her complete change in attitude regarding her stay in the Forests since the last time he saw her, he doesn’t let it show on his face. 

 

“You can’t stay here forever, River. I’m sorry, but your life is too complicated, too woven in with the Doctor’s. We have to keep the timelines intact.” 

 

She’s not entirely sure what he means, considering the Doctor is dead, and by her hand no less. But the Time Lord’s dying words, professing his love for a woman she now knows is her, suggest there’s more at play here than she understands. Is this what her life is? A piece to someone else’s puzzle?

 

River swallows heavily, her throat feeling thick with anger and hurt and a wish to be able to control her own damn life for once. 

 

“Where then?” she asks, and she’s embarrassed to hear her voice crack. “If not here, where?”

 

“Well, what do you like?” Lorna asks quietly from beside her.

 

It’s such an innocent question, but it sends River’s mind reeling. Apart from causing mayhem, she’s never really thought about what she likes, especially since most of her life hasn’t even belonged to her, but to the Church and Kovarian’s Order.

 

She thinks back to school, back to Amy and Rory and getting into trouble. She thinks back to her classes, back to the one class that never ceased to end up with her in detention. History.

 

History was always the worst of all her classes. It reminded her of the Doctor, of his failures and crimes against humanity. It reminded her that her best friends were  _ more _ , that her birthright was that of a murderer. And worst of all, she knew that time was more than what their history teachers spoke of, more than what was and what will be. 

 

Time isn’t a straight line, it isn’t a linear progression.

 

River thinks of her parents, of Demon’s Run, of the Church, of Madame Kovarian. She thinks of the man she’s killed, of everything he’s done. This is her first choice, this is her chance to be who she wants to be. And she wants it all.

 

“Time,” she finds herself saying, a smile forming on her lips. “I like time.”

 

\--

 

Jack leaves, with the promise to be back in the next few days, to give River the chance to say her goodbyes and figure out what exactly it is she wants to do with her love of time. 

 

Instead of doing that, she curls up with Lorna on the younger girl’s bed, and tries to will the world away. 

 

“I don’t want you to leave,” Lorna whispers into her shoulder, echoing River’s own thoughts. 

 

She feels nausea rise in her chest and clenches her jaw painfully to push back the sudden wave of emotions. Pulling Lorna tighter against her, she rests her chin atop the smaller girl’s head, and lets out a heavy sigh.

 

“I don’t want me to leave either,” she admits, pausing to worry her bottom lip between her teeth. “You could...always come with me.”

 

Lorna pulls away at that, and River feels her stomach drop at the girl’s withdrawal. 

 

“I told you, River. I plan to join the Church next year.”

 

“Come with me instead, please.”  _ Don’t join those monsters.  _

 

“I need to find the Doctor again. I have to help him, as a thank you for helping me. I’m sorry, River, but I’m not going to change my mind.”

 

River doesn’t know why she doesn’t just tell Lorna what the Church has done, but she reasons she doesn’t want to be the one to crush the girl’s dreams - as selfish as that may be. Instead, she shifts on the bed, turning to face Lorna and crossing her legs. River opens her mouth to say something - though she’s not really sure what - when Lorna speaks first.

 

“You’re always reading my father’s books. Why?”

 

The change of topic surprises her, and River takes a moment to think before replying. 

 

“Where I’m from,” she starts. “Space travel is more of a dream than a reality. I have a few centuries worth of information to catch up on. I never used to like learning, but now...”

 

She trails off, not really sure how to explain her sudden interest in the world outside of twenty first century Leadworth. Lorna’s eyes light up.

 

“You should get a degree!” she shouts and River has to stop herself from instinctively reacting negatively to the outburst. “There’s a handful of universities that award degrees which are recognised in  _ four  _ galaxies.”

 

“A degree...?”

 

River bites her cheek, mind exploding with the possibilities, of being able to make her own way in life; distance herself from her parents and the Order and everything in between. University had never been on the table for Mels, but she’s no longer the same detention loving girl from Leadworth. 

 

“Yeah. My father wanted me to go and study business on Luna, once,” Lorna’s saying. “‘Luna University is the best in the universe’ he told me. Though I think he only believes that because his grandfather studied there.”

 

“Luna?”

 

“Oh, it’s a satellite of the human homeworld, Earth.”

 

River stills, staring at Lorna with widened eyes.

 

“You’re telling me there’s a university on the  _ moon _ ?!” 

 

\--

 

Jack returns, as promised, his stern face leaving no room for an argument. River sighs, hearts heavy, and collects her only possession - Lorna’s gifted prayer leaf - stuffing it into her pocket.

 

Her goodbye is full of tears; mostly from Lorna, but River can’t stop a few tears of her own slipping free. She hugs the girl tightly, whispering heartfelt thanks into her ears and almost refusing to let go. 

 

Lorna Bucket is the first friend River Song has had, and the pain of leaving her is far worse than any punishment she’d received from the Order. 

 

“Stay safe,  _ please _ ,” she mutters against Lorna’s ear before pressing a kiss to the girl’s cheek. “And be careful with the Church.”

 

“I will. You stay safe too, River.”

 

“Now where’s the fun in that.”

 

She forces a shaky grin, and turns to grab hold of Jack’s coat. Lorna’s face, a sad smile on her lips, is the last thing River sees before the time vortex closes around her.

 

\--

 

Jack had smirked at her when she’d told him she wanted to study archaeology - because discovering history was so much better than just reading about it - and on the  _ moon _ of all places. It was as if he’d already known, which considering their timelines, means he absolutely had. 

 

Which is exactly how River finds herself kneeling on the grass -  _ real  _ grass, on the  _ moon _ \- in the fifty first century, fingers curling into the dirt, and retching up her guts.

 

“You get used to it,” Jack says, bending down to rub comforting circles on her back.

 

“Used to it?” she hisses in reply, trying not to gag again as her throat contracts. She shoots a glare at the offending device strapped to Jack’s wrist. “Please don’t tell me I travel by that thing often.”

 

He lets out a small laugh that tells her she most certainly does use a vortex manipulator in her future, and grabs her wrist to help her stagger to her feet. 

 

“Well what do you think?” he asks, letting go of her and taking a step back. 

 

In front of her stands what she can only assume is the main building of Luna University. It towers above them, the spires and archways giving it an antiquated old-Earth look. 

 

“It’s nice,” she says honestly. “Looks just how I imagine Oxford - 21st century Oxford at least - looks like.”

 

“I wasn’t talking about the university.”

 

Jack smiles, that annoying knowing smile she doesn’t think she’ll ever stop hating, and points to something just over her shoulder. River turns slowly and a gasp slips from her lips before she has the chance to stop it. Spanning out in front of her, shimmering slightly behind the forcefield that keeps the moon’s atmosphere breathable, is the most beautiful sight she’s ever seen. 

 

“Earth,” she whispers, a grin slowly appearing on her face. 

 

The pictures she’d seen growing up were nothing compared to seeing the planet with her own eyes. In fact, River thinks nothing will ever compare to seeing her home planet, spinning lazily through the vastness of space, clouds and oceans swirling together beneath the layer of atmosphere. 

 

“Now this is a view I could get used to,” she says, slightly breathless.

 

She turns back to Jack to find him looking at her with an odd expression on his face. 

 

“What?”

 

“Hmm? Oh, it’s just...no one here ever gives that view more than a quick glance as they pass. When you grow up with space travel, I guess it just becomes the norm. I sort of understand why the Doctor’s companions are always from the pre-space travel period. Gives a bit more kick to their wonder if they’ve never been off planet before.”

 

“Were,” she says, looking down at her feet, the amazement of seeing the Earth quickly fading. “His companions  _ were _ . He’s dead, Jack. I killed him.”

 

“River…”

 

“No, don’t. I recognise that tone. It’s the one adults always used with me when they didn’t want to upset the problem child. Just…” She sighs. “...don’t.” 

 

For a second it looks like he’s going to argue with her, but then he breathes out heavily and jerks his head towards the nearby set of archways. “This way then.”

 

He leads her through a maze of corridors - and she only briefly wonders how he knows his way around before realising he’s more than likely been here before - until they find themselves stood in front of a large, ornate, wooden door. The golden plaque screwed into the wood reads _Dean_ _Geoffrey Smith._

 

River feels inexplicably nervous, stood outside the Dean’s office, all her childhood memories - the second childhood as Mels - rushing back to her. Authority figures and her have never mixed well.

 

She swallows, and looks to Jack for guidance. He gives her a wink, and nods towards the door which does nothing to alleviate the panic welling up inside her. She has no idea what she’s meant to do or say. The idea of applying to university had once been a laughable affair, back when she was Mels. River knows she doesn’t have any relevant qualifications, the very few she does have from thousands of years ago, awarded to a different name.

 

Slowly, she raises a fist and knocks lightly on the door. A muffled “come in” sounds from inside the room, and with a deep breath, River turns the handle and pushes inside. 

 

“Ah Ms Song, come in, come in. Take a seat,” Dean Smith says gesturing at the chairs placed in front of his desk. 

 

Dark mahogany bookcases line the walls of the Dean’s office, a plush green carpet underfoot, and fancy old style light fittings hang from the ceiling. The Dean, a relatively old man by human standards, sits behind his desk, reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose. 

 

Teeth clenched together painfully tight, River walks forwards, a hand sliding over one of the high backed leather chairs before she moves in front of it and sits, hands folding into her lap. 

 

“Captain Harkness has explained about your situation,” the Dean says.

 

“He has…?”

 

Her already nervous heart rate picks up, body tensing even more as she wonders just  _ what _ exactly Jack has told this man.

 

“And we’re still willing to give you a chance here at Luna. As long as you keep your grades at a respectable level, that is.”

 

“Of-of course.”

 

“Now, Luna is a part of the Government’s free schooling system, so you needn't worry about tuition fees. I just need you to fill out these forms and I’ll give you the key to your apartment.”

 

River spends a few minutes filling in what she assumes is the necessary student file details whilst the Dean explains the basics of the university to her. The entire time is spent sitting ramrod straight, staring at the forms or at a spot on the wall just behind the Dean’s shoulder. 

 

Eventually, when she finishes by signing her name - and thinking up a signature on the spot is not something she thought she’d be doing today - he hands her a folder filled with ‘all the essentials’; a map of the campus, her accommodation key, her classes and schedule, and a list of contact information for her new professors. 

 

When Dean Smith finally stops talking, she nods, thanks him for his time, and practically sprints out of his office. The door shuts gently behind her and River exhales a heavy breath. Authority figures will always feel wrong to be around. 

 

She spots Jack instantly, leaning against the opposite wall, eyes following a group of nearby students. 

 

“Captain Harkness has explained your situation?” she hisses.

 

His eyes drift over to her lazily, lips quirking as he takes in her angry appearance. 

 

“Oh calm down, princess,” he laughs, smirking when she raises an unimpressed eyebrow at the nickname. “I told him some standard sob story about an orphaned kid raised by a life of crime who wants to finally better herself. I couldn’t very well tell him you’re from the 21st century. Time travel is illegal here.”

 

She looks at him pointedly, eyes flicking down to his wrist. Jack stands from his slouched position against the wall and shrugs his shoulder until the sleeve of his coat slides down over the vortex manipulator. He grins. 

 

“Yes well, I used to be a time agent. That’s how I got my hands on one of these babies in the first place.”

 

River doesn’t bother to ask what a time agent is, the title is almost self explanatory and from the gleam in Jack’s eye she has a feeling she’ll be finding out more than enough in due course. 

 

“So, everything sorted?” Jack continues. 

 

“Uh, yeah.” River holds up the folder full of information. “Lectures start in three days, so I’ve got time to settle into my new place.”

 

“Excellent. I’ll be off then.”

 

River’s face falls instantly as she fails to hide her disappointment at the thought of him leaving. A soft smile appears on Jack’s lips and he reaches out to squeeze her shoulder gently.

 

“Hey, I’ll be back soon enough. You don’t need me here to hold your hand, princess.”

 

She glares at him.

 

“And tonight, I’ve got a date.” 

 

He winks at her, and slams his hand down on the manipulator. River only just manages to hold in a yelp, stepping backwards as Jack disappears in a loud, bright fuzz of static.

 

She rolls her eyes to the top of her head and breathes in deeply, dragging her hands down her face and letting out the breath in an angry groan. 

 

This is it then.

 

University. On the _moon_.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen - I know River was raised by egghead aliens and is a badass assassin. But the girl grew up on Earth. Don’t you be telling me you wouldn’t find it awesome to go to University ON THE MOON. Yeah, exactly. 
> 
> I really hated writing this chapter, but I couldn't bring myself to just skip it so, sorry. Next chapter we get back to the River/Doctor goodness you're all really here for.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Listen, sweetie,” she bites out and her eyes widen slightly as she searches her brain for where that particular pet name came from. Though the Doctor doesn’t even seem fazed, so River presses on. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing here, but you can’t just barge into my lectures, interrupt my studies, and expect me to come swanning off to God knows where with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, the Doctor's finally back.

River’s sitting in her first ever lecture at Luna University when it happens. 

 

The doors to the lecture hall burst open half way through the lecture and River’s hearts skip a beat, or two, or ten as a tall, lanky man strides inside. He stands there, smile bright on his face, oozing confidence, _alive_. Bile rises in her throat, she feels dizzy, unbalanced. 

 

“River!” he shouts, eyes scanning the rows of students. 

 

She sinks lower in her seat and begs the universe to end the torture. But the universe evidently hates her, because the next thing she knows, he’s stood at the end of her row,  _ waving. _

 

She thinks she’s going to vomit. 

 

“Come along, Pond,” he says, and it’s only because she’s digging her nails into her palms that she doesn’t pass out. 

 

“Excuse me? What’s the meaning of this?” an older voice says. 

 

River can feel her entire face flush with embarrassment as her professor storms up the steps to stand in front of the Doctor. If she wasn’t in the process of having some sort of panic attack, the sight would no doubt be amusing - the short, balding archaeology professor trying to confront the ageless god. The ageless,  _ dead _ god, she reminds herself. 

 

The Doctor takes a moment to drag his eyes off River, finally turning to fix them on the professor. 

 

“Oh, hello. Sorry for interrupting this...I suppose it’s a lecture, yes?” The Doctor’s mouth turns up in a grimace when he reads the board at the front of the lecture hall. “Archaeology 101…”

 

He makes a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. 

 

This is her punishment River decides. For killing him. She has her own personal ghost to make the rest of her life a living hell. 

 

“I’m here for River Song.”

 

“Ms Song is in the middle of a lecture, Mr…?”

 

“Doctor.”

 

“Doctor...who?”

 

The Doctor smirks and snaps his braces against his chest.

 

“Yup, that’s me. And I know, but it’s boring isn’t it. Archaeology. Rubbish stuff. So I thought I’d take her somewhere more interesting. Why bother reading about something that can be lived?”

 

She can feel a hundred sets of eyes staring at her, the burn on her cheeks telling her just how hard she’s blushing. 

 

“I’m busy, Doctor,” she says meekly, hoping no one hears the way her voice catches on his name. “Maybe later, yeah?”

 

She doesn’t miss the look of disappointment that flashes across his face before he seems to realise where he is, the deep red blush burning her cheeks, and the hundreds of students staring at them both. He finally has the audacity to look embarrassed. 

 

“I’ll ah...just wait till later then…”

 

River mouths ‘sorry’ to her professor, who looks like he’s going to be having stern words with her when the lecture is over, and studiously ignores the Doctor’s retreating form. 

 

\--

 

It isn’t till the lecture is finished, her professor indeed threatening to put a note in her student file if her ‘friend’ interrupts again, that River realises she hadn’t felt anger towards the Doctor. Embarrassment, a wish for the ground to swallow her whole, even a bit of guilt, but not anger. 

 

She wonders if the anger is gone now that the Doctor is dead.

 

River gasps as she turns round the corner just outside the lecture hall and almost runs into the ghost himself. 

 

“River!” He grins at her.

 

She stands in front of him, staring with what she’s sure is a slightly unhinged look in her eyes, and slowly stretches out her hand to prod the Doctor firmly in the chest with a well manicured index finger. He sways back slightly but otherwise remains... _ there. _

 

If he’s a ghost, he’s a very solid, very corporeal ghost. 

 

“How?” her mouth is saying before her brain catches up. 

 

“River…” His voice dips low, and River ignores how attractive it sounds in her ears, because he’s the Doctor and he’s  _ dead _ . “When was the last time you saw me?”

 

He’s looking at her with the same calculating expression he’d used back when she was Mels. It unnerves her, because surely he should  _ know. _

 

A cold sense of dread washes over her at the realisation. Time travel. The Doctor she killed knew about River,  _ loved _ River - and at some point later in the afternoon she’ll think about whether referring to herself in third person is a sign of her finally going mad - which means only one thing. They’re back to front. 

 

She swallows back the lump of emotion in her throat. 

 

“I’ve...only seen you once before.”  _ When I killed you.  _ “When I regenerated into…”

 

She gestures down at herself, and the Doctor’s eyes sweep over her body appreciatively. 

 

“Ah, haven’t done that yet. Looking forward to it.”

 

River blanches, though it seems her ‘back to front’ theory has some weight to it, and quickly forces a shaky smile onto her face. 

 

“So, shall we?” he asks. 

 

“Shall we what?”

 

He gestures nonchalantly to the TARDIS, parked in an alcove in the corridor behind him, and anger - normal anger, she realises, happily surprised that it’s not the unnatural, all consuming anger she’d had before - bubbles up inside her.

 

“Listen, sweetie,” she bites out and her eyes widen slightly as she searches her brain for where  _ that _ particular pet name came from. Though the Doctor doesn’t even seem fazed, so River presses on. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing here, but you can’t just barge into my lectures, interrupt my studies, and expect me to come swanning off to God knows where with you.”

 

She pretends it isn’t guilt sitting painfully in her chest at the deflated look on the Doctor’s face. He almost looks  _ hurt _ at her refusal to go with him, and she’s reminded - not for the first time - of his dying words at Lake Silencio. River forces herself to feel the anger, lest she give in and give the Doctor what he wants out of some sense of obligation. 

 

“You ruined my life. My parents’ lives. You don’t get to come here and ruin this, something I’ve chosen for  _ myself _ for once. I’m going to get a degree in archaeology. Whether you think it’s dumb or not. And maybe, maybe I’ll even get a doctorate afterwards.” She smiles proudly at the thought of her future accomplishments, continuing to ignore the slightly downtrodden look plastered all over the Doctor’s face. “Doctor River Song has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

 

A grin twitches at the corners of his mouth and River has to stop herself from asking him if she really does make it as a doctor someday. 

 

An awkward silence falls around them, River half tempted to turn and leave him standing there, when an explosion sends them crashing into each other. It takes her a moment to clear her head, he smells like  _ time _ and how can time have a smell, before she pushes herself off him, head snapping round to look for the source of the explosion. 

 

Together they race outside into the courtyard and River can’t help but notice the way the back of the Doctor’s hand brushes against hers as they run, like he wants to grab her hand with his. She forces down the part of her that wishes he would.

 

“What the-”

 

“Sontarans?” the Doctor shouts incredulously, a disbelieving laugh in his throat. “What the hell are Sontarans doing on the moon?”

 

What looks like a whole battalion of potatoes, each dressed in shiny blue armour and sporting a variety of energy weapons, is currently storming through the centre of the main Luna University quad. She can already see people lying on the ground, bodies crumpled and forgotten, and River’s jaw clenches angrily at the sight. 

 

There’s a shout from the sontarans and River grabs the back of the Doctor’s coat just in time, dragging him behind a pillar as an energy bolt goes whizzing past where his head had been. It wouldn’t do for him to die again, before, twice. Time travel; it’s going to give her a headache.

 

“You never told me about this,” the Doctor squeaks, looking down at her in surprise when her body presses his into the brickwork. Something flashes across his eyes when he looks at her, but it’s unreadable and gone a second later. 

 

“Well, maybe you telling me that is the reason why, sweetie,” she bites out, mind too focussed on assessing the situation to really notice her use of the nickname again.

 

Her eyes dart across the courtyard: ten potatoes, each fully armoured and fully armed. The quad is too open, with too many entry points, and even with her training River knows she has no chance without a weapon of her own. 

 

“Shit,” she says under her breath. 

 

“This shouldn’t be happening,” the Doctor mutters, and she can almost see his brain whirring into action. He’s speaking nonsensically into the top of her head - in fact she’s not even sure he’s speaking  _ words _ at all - and River rolls her eyes.

 

“You’re rambling,” she says once she realises he’s not going to shut up any time soon.

 

“Right, sorry. Yes.” He pauses. “Where’s your gun?”

 

“My gun?”

 

“Yes, you know, for shooting things?”

 

“You let me have a gun? You let me  _ shoot  _ things?”

 

“I don’t  _ let  _ you do anything, River Song. Couldn’t stop you if I tried.”

 

She almost feels proud of her future self. 

 

“I don’t have a gun.”

 

“Oh.” He seems genuinely surprised. “Well. That makes things a tad more difficult.”

 

River doesn’t have time to ask him what the hell he’s on about, because suddenly screams are surrounding them - university students,  _ victims _ , caught in the sontaran blasts. Before she can stop him, the Doctor twirls away from where she’d pinned him against the brick pillar, and strides out confidently into the courtyard. 

 

She stares blankly at the space he’d just been, her mouth silently forming an over exaggerated ‘what’, and then she’s sprinting after him, lest the moron get himself killed before she can do it in her past. He’s standing in front of the angry looking potatoes - and River knows she should stop referring to the sontarans as such, but they are attacking her university, so she can’t really find it within herself to give a damn - his hands above his head in the universal sign for surrender. She stands behind him, no gun, no plan, and prays to whatever deity is looking down on them that he’s not about to get them both killed. 

 

“Sontarans!” he says brightly, and surprisingly the battalion stops, turning as one to face him. “Always love a good sontaran!”

 

“I really hope you have a plan, Doctor,” she hisses against his shoulder. 

 

He twists his head slightly so he can see her from the corner of his eye. 

 

“It’s a work in progress,” he admits. “But we have to do  _ something _ .”

 

Part of her is annoyed that he’s risking their lives with a non-existent plan, but the other part of her - the part that wants the Doctor to hold her hand, and doesn’t mind it when she calls him sweetie - is pleasantly surprised that he’s risking their lives to save a group of humans he’s never met. 

 

“Halt, human.” 

 

The sontaran closest to them, most likely the leader, steps forwards. His weapon is trained on the Doctor and River is shocked to find a sense of protectiveness overwhelm her. She clenches her jaw and reasons it’s only because she wants to keep the timelines intact.

 

The Doctor laughs, presumably humoured by being called human, and lowers his hands. He shoves them casually into his trouser pockets and River’s eyes narrow in suspicion. 

 

“What is a battalion of sontarans doing on Luna?” he asks, seemingly oblivious to the plasma rifle aimed at his head. River’s eyes dart from potato to potato trying to create a plan of her own, but with the way they’re stood, she knows she’ll be shot down before she manages to anything of use.

 

“We are sontaran. We go where we please,” the commander says. “We answer to no-one.”

 

“Oh. Oh!” A grin appears on the Doctor’s face. “You’re pirates!  _ Space  _ pirates. Sontaran space pirates.”

 

“This is a training exercise for my crew. If they can not deal with a few thousand weak humans, they are not worth the air they breathe.”

 

“Yes, well, I happen to  _ like _ these few thousand humans. Especially one in particular.” River only just catches the wink he throws in her direction and she forces herself to stare at the sontarans icily instead of responding, ignoring the heat of the blush rising to her cheeks. “So I’m afraid you being here isn’t something I can allow.”

 

The Doctor’s hand flies out of his pocket and straight away she notices the sonic. It buzzes, bright green light flashing, and the sontaran commander’s rifle fizzes in his hand. He drops it, in surprise or pain, River isn’t sure, but she doesn’t hesitate, diving forwards and grabbing the gun before he has a chance to recover.

 

She backs up and aims the pilfered weapon at the commander’s potatoey head. River can practically feel the sights of the other nine rifles pointed in her direction, and she really hopes she isn’t about to find herself in another body; she’s grown rather attached to the current one. 

 

“Now,” the Doctor says cheerily, voice still diplomatic and acting like he hasn’t just attacked a warring race with a  _ screwdriver _ . “You might be thinking, what’s one human with a rifle and one  _ Time Lord _ with a screwdriver going to do against ten sontarans.”

 

He pauses, the grin on his face growing at the small look of uncertainty that passes through the battalion at the mention of ‘Time Lord’. 

 

“Shall I let you in on a little secret?” he stage whispers. “That ‘one human’ is River Song.”

 

River has no idea what he’s playing at, but she plays along, forcing a cocky smirk onto her face and hefting the rifle threateningly. From what little she’s read about sontarans, they’re not a race which usually succumbs to fear, and yet, at the Doctor’s words, the sontaran commander seems to panic. In no time at all he’s muttering hurriedly into his communicator, and the entire battalion disappears in a rush of white transporter light.

 

River stares dumbly at the now sontaran free space in front of them. The courtyard is silent. 

 

Until people suddenly rush out of the neighbouring buildings, surveying the damage and tending to the wounded. But River’s head is too foggy with fading adrenaline to really pay much attention to anything other than the Doctor. 

 

“Why’d they run?” she asks, letting the rifle drop to her side. 

 

The Doctor turns to her, a proud grin stretched across his face, and she finds herself smiling in response. 

 

“Your reputation precedes you, dear,” he says fondly, and warmth spreads through her at his use of the endearment.

 

“I don’t have a reputation.”

 

“Not yet.” He winks. “Spoilers.”

 

“Spoilers?” The word is familiar and she vaguely recalls Jack using it on her first day in the Gamma Forests. “What’s spoilers?”

 

“Means I can’t tell you. Timelines and all that.”

 

Her brow furrows in confusion, but she lets the topic drop for now, leaving it a subject for another day. 

 

“How did you know I’d grab the gun?” 

 

“Because you’re magnificent, River.”

 

River swallows heavily at that, and averts her gaze, avoiding looking the Doctor in the eyes. It’s all a bit too much. She turns and heads back inside, resuming her original path towards her dorm before the Doctor and the sontarans had gotten in the way. He follows right behind her and she should be angry that he isn’t staying to help in the aftermath, except she’s not staying either. 

 

Is that what they do? she wonders. Save planets from immediate danger and then leave for the next bit of excitement? Is that who they are?

 

“Well I have a gun now,” she jokes for lack of anything else to say as the Doctor walks beside her. She shouldn’t notice how his longer legs match her stride perfectly, but she does. And it’s all a bit too  _ much. _

 

“You are not bringing a _ rifle  _ on our adventures.”

 

She doesn’t respond to that, still not entirely sure she wants to go on anymore adventures with him. Her apartment has never felt so far away.

 

“I guess this explains your intense dislike for sontarans,” he muses. 

 

“Giant potatoes…” 

 

“River!” he shouts, but the grin on his face tells her his outrage isn’t serious. 

 

“...attacking your university can do that to a girl, I guess,” she finishes with a laugh that sounds forced even to her own ears.

 

When they finally reach her dorm, she unlocks the door to her room quickly, throwing the rifle a bit too carelessly onto her bed as she enters. The Doctor follows her in, without waiting for an invite, and River bites back the anger at his impudence.

 

“So,” he says, leaning against her wardrobe. “Gonna come with me yet?”

 

“I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day, don’t you?”

 

He laughs at that. “That was just an appetiser for most days.”

 

“Why did you risk your life back there? On the hope that the sontarans would run away from us?” she asks before he manages to convince her to travel in the TARDIS with him. “You could have died.”

 

The Doctor’s face darkens slightly at her questions, his post-saving-people jovial attitude fading slowly from the lines of his body. He slumps onto her bed, only just managing to miss sitting on the plasma rifle. It bounces worryingly next to him for a moment before it stills and his eyes are finding hers. 

 

“I know you’re young, River. Younger than I’ve ever seen you before.” She pretends she doesn’t see him wince, pretends her hearts don’t clench at the sadness in his voice. “But you always have to  _ try _ if you can. You and I, we’re...different. We can  _ see _ time, feel it in a way most of the universe can’t. If I’d just run off back to the TARDIS and allowed the sontarans to do what they wanted...I couldn’t have lived with the guilt of having all those deaths on my hands when I had the chance to prevent it.”

 

She thinks of the planet - the fixed point in time planet. She’d been so angry, focussed on the fact he wouldn’t save it, that she hadn’t noticed the pain laced across his features as they’d run across the battlefield. She bites her lip. It’s not just a god complex. The Doctor actually gives a damn. 

 

“You really care, don’t you.” It’s not a question, but he nods gently in reply anyway. 

 

River stands awkwardly in the middle of her room, unsure of what else to say. It’s still all a bit too much, but she can’t help but wonder what travelling in the TARDIS would be like now that her hand fits better in his, now that she’s  _ River  _ and not Mels. It’s as if this body was tailored for him and she holds back a laugh at the realisation that she  _ is _ made for him in every way, someone that could and would get close enough to him to lead him to his death. 

 

_ Melody Pond. My bespoke psychopath,  _ the memory of his words rings in her ears. 

 

With an awkward jolt, she spins round to the kettle she’d stolen from the kitchens. Tea. She was technically British, and whilst the Doctor was an alien, he still had English accent. And she needed to do  _ something _ . Because it’s all a bit too much.  

 

“What is?” he asks, voice laced with concern.

 

Caught in her thoughts, she doesn’t notice the Doctor moving until he’s stood right behind her, unnervingly close. Realising she spoke out loud, she flushes, clearing her throat and continuing to keep her hands busy making the tea. 

 

“Nothing. It’s fine. I...tea?”

 

She almost spills hot water everywhere when his hands close over hers. He’s warm, so much warmer than a human would be, and it’s surprisingly comforting.

 

“River, do you want me to leave?”

 

_ Yes. No.  _ She doesn’t know what she wants and it makes her feel unsettled, because she’s always known what she wants. All she does know is the Doctor sounds  _ sad _ and she’s horrified to find she prefers it when there’s a grin on his face, and a bounce in his step. 

 

She barely knows him. But she wants to.

 

“I...yes,” she finally says. “Next time we can go somewhere, alright?”

 

River finally looks up at him and is relieved to see a smile back on his face. 

 

“Raincheck then?” he says. And she nods in reply. “Alright, raincheck. See you around, River Song.”

 

“Till the next time, Doctor.”

 

He backs out of her room slowly, keeping his eyes on her for as long as possible before slipping out the door.

 

“Oh, and please don’t interrupt my lecture next time,” she calls after him. 

 

The door closes gently, but she can still make out his laughed “no promises” as he leaves down the hall. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :)


End file.
